


Little Lost Boy

by starrdust411



Category: Captain America (Movies), Spider-Man (Ultimateverse), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Kid Fic, M/M, Mild Language, Parent Steve Rogers, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrdust411/pseuds/starrdust411
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an attack that devastates most of Brooklyn, Steve finds a little boy in need of a new home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Brooklyn Incident

He'd found him beneath a pile of rubble, sandwiched between the bodies of two crushed women. Captain America had only managed to hear the sounds of muffled cries thanks to his superior hearing, but even with that knowledge he had to marvel at the fact that the boy was still alive to begin with. The entire building had collapsed in the attack and, so far, this baby was the only survivor. In his mind he knew that it was nothing short of a miracle, even if the rest of the team would say otherwise.

The baby's face was bright red when he pulled him out of the wreckage. There was blood in his hair and grime covering him from head to toe, but he seemed fine save for a few bruises on his little legs. 

"It's okay little buddy. I've got you." Captain America was careful to use his most soothing tone as he lifted the boy away from the horrifying scene and pulled him into his arms. He was small, just over a year old by Cap's best guess, and wore torn up powder blue pajamas with the name "Miles" printed across the chest in red threading. He had a head full of tight black curls and skin the color of warm caramel. "I've got you."

The baby, Miles, kept on wailing, streaks of tears leaving a trail down his dust coated cheeks. Cap looked around, suddenly feeling panicked and a bit overwhelmed as he bounced the child in his arms. Tending to children hadn't exactly been part of any training he'd ever gone through, but the rest of the team seemed to be otherwise occupied and the paramedics had yet to arrive on the scene. 

Captain America blushed as he dipped his head low to the boy's ears and began to sing the first song that popped into his mind, Stormy Weather, and hoped that it would do the trick. Tony had once told Steve that he had a voice that could "strip paint," but Miles didn't seem to mind his creaky, uneven tone as his wailing sobs soon eased into unhappy whimpers.

"Hey Cap, are you strangling a dying cat over there?" Iron Man groused, his dry tone coming through loud and clear in Captain America's ear piece.

"No, but I do have my arms full over here," he returned and was annoyed to find Miles's cries strengthen at the loss of the "melody." He started over and was rewarded with the sight of a little fist rubbing at tired brown eyes.

The rest of the team soon gathered around him, either to take stock of the situation or request that Cap stop singing _immediately_. When they found Captain America standing in the middle of a demolished building with a baby cradled against him, a mixture of solemn emotions settled on their features. Black Widow and Hawkeye frowned in a way that very clearly suggested that they had encountered similar situations such as this in their sordid past with grim outcomes. Iron Man's face mask was on and seemed likely to stay that way, as if to emphasize Tony's unwillingness to deal with the situation. Coulson, who had arrived on the scene soon after the mission was done and over with, had merely shrugged his jacket off and wrapped the baby in it. Miles, who had been inches away from sleep, had fussed and whined as Coulson swaddled him and only settled down when he returned to Cap's awkward embrace.

"Any signs of survivors?" Coulson asked as he nodded towards the remainder of the building. 

"Just this one so far," he said, shifting Miles in his arms to emphasize the statement. "But I think we should do another thorough search just in case."

"No one could have survived that," Widow said bleakly and if it weren't for the fact that Cap was currently holding proof of the contrary in his arms, he would have been incline to agree with her.

\---

They returned to headquarters with Miles. The idea of sending him off with the paramedics along with the rest of the civilians who had been caught up in the attack had been brought up, but Miles didn't seem to want to be seperated from Captain America and Cap was just too flustered to do anything about it. He took Miles to see one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. doctors on board the helicarrier who confirmed that Miles's injuries were only superficial. Miles had been cleaned up, changed, and given an oversized t-shirt to replace his ruined pajamas. He wasn't talking yet, but he didn't seem to be weeping anymore either and Cap decided to take that as a good sign.

"His name is Miles Morales," Coulson informed them once the team had reassembled for a debriefing. Steve had hoped that the boy's name would be enough for Coulson to work off of and was rewarded to find his faith in the senior agent justified. "Born to Rio Morales and Jefferson Davis at Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn. Approximately eighteen months old."

"Cap, you said you found two dead women buried with him," Natasha said darkly. She was sitting hunched over the table with a look that was distant and dull, yet her sharp eyes were trained on Miles in a way that said she could see his entire future written out in front of her. "One of them must've been mom."

Steve sighed as he stared down at the baby sitting in his lap. Miles was staring at the meeting room's door as if he were expecting someone to walk in. Steve could guess who he was waiting for. He swallowed a groan as he placed a gloved hand on the boy's stomach. He had only managed to take off his cowl and nothing else, because it wasn't easy to strip out of his costume while juggling a child. It was hard enough for him to wrap his mind around the idea that the better part of Brooklyn had been demolished just a few hours ago, but now he had to swallow the fact that this little boy's future was looking bleaker by the minute.

"What about his dad?" Clint asked as he drummed his knuckles against the table. "Was he in the area?"

"Not likely," Coulson said in his usual even tone. "Jefferson is currently serving time in a state corrections facility along with Miles's uncle. Neither is likely to be released any time soon. Mom's side of the family isn't looking anymore promising either. She's listed as having only one sister. Who was living with her."

"And now we have the other woman," Natasha said with a lazy wave of her hand.

"Do you think this is funny?" Steve snapped. "This poor kid's whole family has been wiped out and you're making a joke."

"Of course I don't think it's funny," she countered, her voice even as she finally pulled her gaze away from Miles in order to stare over at Steve. "But I think we all know where this is going."

"Where is this going?" he blurted out and instantly regretted asking. 

A heavy silence fell onto the room, one that seemed to emphasize the fact that Tony had hardly said two words since laying eyes on Miles and Steve had to wonder if it was due to a general distaste for children or because, as Natasha liked to put it, Stark was a walking bag of "daddy issues."

"Cap," Coulson began, dropping the business like agent voice and pulling on a gentler tone he didn't often use in front of people. "S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't exactly have a daycare facility..."

He didn't have to say anymore. Steve found himself shuddering at the thought -- a thought that had likely entered Clint and Natasha's minds the moment they had seen Miles -- of Miles being placed into an orphanage. He'd probably stay within the system for years, moving from second rate home to home waiting for his jailbird father to claim him only to be abandoned. He'd grow up bitter and alone in an institution that never really did care for the children that were forced into them. One day he'd age out, be forced into a world without friends or family to look after him, without a proper education or decent skills to help him get by, and end up either living off the streets or in a cell next to his father and uncle.

Steve shook his head and found his hold on the little boy tighten ever so slightly. "S.H.I.E.L.D. does have a medical wing," he said, "with a pediatric center."

"A pediatric center that hasn't been used in _years_ ," Clint countered. "Literally, _years_. I think there's been _one kid_ in that room and she spent less than a day in there before..."

"What? Being shipped off to an orphanage?" Steve snapped.

"Before dying," Natasha finished and Steve found himself turning pale at the complete lack of emotion in her voice.

Miles touched his arm and pointed, his little finger going straight for the door as he silently asked them the question that no one was ready to answer. Steve was reminded then of what had happened, of the impossible odds the boy had survived, and he suddenly felt determination swell up inside of him.

Steve stood, his movement causing the chair to scrape against the floor and the table to shake ever so slightly. "Fine, I'll take him myself." He shifted Miles in his arm, so that his head of black curls was now resting against his shoulder. Miles didn't fuss as he was turned around in Steve's arms, he only cooed softly as he began to stare at the large white star laid out against the field of blue in front of him. 

Steve stepped out in the door and walked briskly down the hall towards the elevator. He had barely pressed the call button before the sound of dress shoes rushing across the tiled floor greeted his ears. "What do you think you're doing, Cap?" Coulson asked and Steve didn't even have to turn around to see the tired look on his face.

"I'm taking him to pediatrics," he said firmly as he pressed the call button a second time. It was a needless gesture as the elevator soon gave out a loud ding as the doors slipped open. "He can wait there while we look for his family."

Steve stepped onto the car and wasn't the least bit surprised when Coulson stepped in with him. The doors closed, but neither one pressed a floor button. "Steve," Coulson began again in a tone that was stern, yet gentle as he placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing? You and I both know this kid can't stay here."

"You're right, he can't stay here," Steve huffed. He knew he was being stubborn, but he also couldn't shake the horrible thoughts still lurking in his mind. "He has to go with his family." He looked around the elevator as if to make absolutely certain that they were alone before meeting Coulson's gaze. Phil's eyes were brimming with concern and fear and a sort of dread that Steve couldn't quite place. "Phil, please. He can't go to an orphanage. I don't want him to grow up alone. I don't want him to end up like his dad."

"You're working under the assumption that no one will take him," Phil pointed out, "but there's also the chance that he could find a better home, with a decent family that will love him."

"The odds of that are slim to none," he sighed. Steve looked down at Miles, who was currently tracing the outlines of his star emblem with sloppy baby fingers. He looked as if he were ready to pluck the star right off of Steve's chest and for some reason that made Steve smile. "Half of Brooklyn was destroyed today and this kid survived. _He survived_ after a six-story apartment building collapsed on top of him. That's nothing short of a miracle in my mind and I just can't turn my back on that. I have to do the right thing."

Phil frowned as he turned slightly in order to press a button on the silver paneling. The elevator began to gradually descend and Steve knew right away they were going to the medical center. "I won't argue theology with you," he sighed. "I know that's just a losing battle, but I'm going to ask you to promise me that you won't do something stupid and bring this kid to the Tower. He can't live with us."

Steve smiled and pecked Phil's cheek, a gesture that caused Miles to momentarily be pressed between them. Steve didn't usually like to show too much affection in public, but at the moment their only witness was a baby whose vocabulary likely wouldn't be strong enough for him to start spreading rumors. "I won't," he promised. "He'll stay here until we can find his family. I swear."

By the end of the day they would both find out that was a lie.

\---

Pediatrics was indeed tiny and clearly hadn't been used in years. There were only two hospital beds, both tiny and stiff from lack of use despite the fact that the sheets were clean and likely changed regularly. There was a basket of toys that were covered in dust and a bin of books that had gone yellow around the edges. There was a nurse's station that looked as if it was only used for the odd coffee break and a battered old chair that had likely been placed in there because no one else wanted it. A few bright shapes and characters had been slapped on the walls, but that was years ago and they were faded and peeling now.

Steve had intended to simply drop off Miles in pediatrics and leave, but there was only one nurse who fell under the "pediatrics department" category and the second Steve had placed the baby in her boney arms Miles's eyes began to water. His pink little bottom lip began to wobble in a way that made Steve wonder if the weight of his mother's absence was starting to hit him and the super soldier felt his insides twist at the thought. He gave Miles's cheek a fond little pat, called him "little buddy", and promised to see him again soon. Yet he had just barely walked out the door before he heard Miles erupt into tears.

_Poor little guy misses his mom,_ Steve thought sadly as he instantly pivoted and walked back through the med center and towards pediatrics. The nurse smiled up at him and placed Miles back into his arms. She didn't seem at all surprised when the sobbing stopped and Steve soon realized he wouldn't be leaving Miles any time soon.

He stayed in his still soiled uniform and took a seat in the raggedy old chair. He read Miles a book called _Chicka Chicka Boom Boom_ four times because Miles kept asking. ("Well, you did say 'please,'" Steve had reasoned before each repeat performance.) At dinner time he fed Miles a bowl of brown rice with bits of peas and carrots mixed in. Miles ate nearly half of it with Steve's help, while the rest scattered across the floor. When the meal was done, he handed Miles off to the nurse who started to change him, but stopped when the screams became unbearable. Steve took over, with a great deal of instruction from the nurse, and the cries were less frustrated. At night he read _Chicka Chicka Boom Boom_ yet again, only this time Miles fell asleep with his cheek pressed firmly against the star on Steve's chest.

In the stillness of the odd little room, Steve found himself listening to the sound of Miles's soft even breaths and the urge to kiss the top of his curly head welled up inside. He pushed the urge away, reminding himself that it wasn't his place to do such things.

Coulson came in not long after Miles had fallen asleep and it was only then that Steve realized how long he had been trapped in pediatrics. He looked down at Miles, sound asleep against him, then looked up at Coulson and smiled. "How's the search going?" he whispered, uncertain of just how heavy a sleeper the baby was.

Coulson's lip curled into a small smile that seemed to apologize for its existence. "So far we've been able to locate one other relative: a paternal grandmother living in an assisted living facility."

"That's not so bad." He wanted to shrug, but fought against it. "I'm sure they'd be willing to let Miles stay there given the circumstances."

"She's eighty-eight years old and living with Alzheimer's," Coulson went on. "She probably doesn't remember what she had for breakfast, let alone her grandson's name."

Steve felt his heart sink down to his ankles at Coulson's grim tone. He didn't even bother to ask if they had found more survivors in the wreckage, because at this point he didn't think anything could save Miles from his fate. 

Except maybe Captain America.

Phil must have read his mind, because he let out a heavy sigh as he took a seat on the stiff mattress across from Steve's knee. There was something in his gaze that said he hated everything that he was about to say, but couldn't stop himself from doing it. He cleared his throat, rubbed his hands, and cleared his throat again. "We never did talk about this before, did we?" Phil began hesitantly. "Us and kids?"

His heart constricted with the desire to say something to Phil, to assure him that this wasn't about wanting kids or starting a family, but he knew how it would all come out in the end given the circumstances. "Phil, this has to be a sign," he said instead. "God saved him, he brought him to us. Maybe... maybe I'm meant to take care of him? At least until we can find him a decent home."

A firm hand landed on Steve's knee and gave him a tender squeeze. "Steve, having a baby is a huge commitment," Phil told him. "Just because you had one good day doesn't mean you're ready for a lifetime of good and bad and frustration and worry and heartache."

"He can't go to an orphanage."

"We don't have stable jobs," he went on. "It would be selfish of us to take in a child knowing that there will be times when one or both of us could be gone for days on end and possibly never come back."

"Our jobs may not be stable, but we have jobs. Decent, well paying jobs with benefits. And we have a home, a good home."

"A home that just happens to be a super hero hideout known to the entire world. What happens when a villain attacks? What happens if there's a _Hulk_ attack?"

"God gave him to me to look after. Do you think I'd let anyone hurt him?"

Phil gave him a look, one that he often used when he felt that Steve was using religion too much in order to win an argument, before sighing and moving on. "Be honest with me Steve: if the time comes and we find a good home for Miles, will you be ready to give him up?"

He nodded a bit too quickly and he found a tightness building in his throat in spite of the gesture. "If they're decent people who can love him, yes."

Phil groaned and ran his hand over the thin hair on his scalp. "You realize that I'm too old to be chasing a baby around," he said. Steve gave him a look that said Phil wasn't anywhere near old, but Phil ignored it. "The others probably won't lift a finger either, so the bulk of baby care will have to fall on you. Are you going to be okay with that?"

"Yeah, I... I can learn. I'm picking things up quickly enough."

There was a moment of silence as Phil looked at Miles, studying his sleeping body in a way that was oddly calculating. Steve felt his hand go to cradle the back of the boy's head and was rewarded with a small smile pulling at Phil's lips. "I'll go talk to Stark about letting the little guy stay with us for a while."

Steve leaned forward and kissed him, not a quick little peck, but a full press of lips to lips and for once he didn't care if anyone else was looking at them. "Thank you, Phil," he breathed and then kissed him again. "Thank you. I just... I'm glad to have you with me on this."

Phil seemed to hesitate for a moment, but it was only a moment and he was soon leaning in to kiss Steve again. "I'm with you, Cap," he told him. "Just promise me one thing: you won't get too attached."

"I won't," Steve swore, but ultimately they would find out that this was just another lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen a lot of stories where Peter Parker is adopted by Cap (and Tony) and wanted to try my hand at it. And while I love Peter, I wanted to do something a bit different and use the new Spider-Man instead. 
> 
> Later chapters will have some homophobic and mildly racial language, so sensitive readers be warned.


	2. Tension

They didn't bring Miles to the Tower that night or even the next day, because as eager as Steve was, he still knew better than to rush Miles into a home that wasn't adequately prepared for him. Coulson took it upon himself to contact Stark about the new arrival, and while Tony wasn't thrilled by the idea of having a baby in the building, he was willing to let Miles stay under the assurance that it was on a temporary basis.

Despite the work that still needed to be done after the Brooklyn incident, Steve felt determined that most of his time at S.H.I.E.L.D. should be spent getting to know Miles while he was still residing in pediatrics. He eventually learned how to change a diaper without having someone there to guide him and found that Miles's mobility was advanced enough that he could walk without any support. Miles didn't eat a lot, but he had a fair amount of teeth and seemed to enjoy a good variety of food. Miles didn't speak much either, a fact that Steve attributed to the shock of what he'd experienced, but each day found a new word appearing in his vocabulary.

At home Steve read up on childcare techniques and went to work baby proofing the apartment: applying foam siding to sharp corners, covering exposed outlets, and securing potentially dangerous objects far out of a toddler's potential reach. The spare room/office was converted into a temporary nursery, a fact that Phil was not the least bit pleased with, although he did not protest too harshly against it. By the end of the week they were ready to take Miles home, but things were still less than ideal.

Miles didn't sleep through the night at all, waking periodically to cry for things that Steve couldn't give him. Every now and again Miles would check the doors as if waiting to see a familiar face come for him and during play time he would often push Steve's hands away before staring blankly out the window. Steve felt helpless as he watched little Miles searching the shadows for ghosts while Coulson had yet to find a relative who wasn't either incarcerated or dead.

To add to his stress was the fact that the rest of the team was making their objection to the situation loud and clear. Natasha still looked at Miles as if he were one of the walking dead and Tony absolutely refused to stay in the same room as the baby for more than a second. Bruce kept his distance as well, choosing to lock himself away in any of the Towers' many research facilities during Miles's waking hours. Clint was easily the most supportive and friendly, which meant he would offer more than two words to Miles without having his arm twisted. Thor was currently on Asgard, but Steve had a strong feeling that had he been on the tower with them, he would likely join the others in their disapproval.

Then there was Coulson. Unlike Steve, Coulson had a more regular nine-to-five work schedule at S.H.I.E.L.D. and was usually gone from sun up to sunset. If he was home while Miles was awake, he would offer the baby a stiff greeting, but hadn't so much as changed a single diaper since Miles had moved in with them. Coulson had said from the beginning that the bulk of the childcare would fall onto his shoulders, but Steve hadn't anticipated it being to such a degree.

"Do you think I made a mistake bringing him here?" Steve asked one night. The room was dark and Phil's back was towards him, but Steve could tell from the tension in his shoulders that Phil was still awake. They didn't usually sleep like this, back to back or even side to side, but Phil had been pulling away the last few days and Steve didn't know if it was due to lack of sleep from Miles's nightly fits or something else. "The team doesn't seem very happy about it."

"You made this decision on your own, Cap," Coulson said in a voice that was far too alert for someone who had been lying in bed for half an hour. "You can't just expect the others to blindly go along with it."

"Don't call me 'Cap' in bed," Steve chided. At least, he meant for it to sound chiding, but the words came closer to a whine in his ears. He placed a large hand on the small of Phil's back and let it just sit there for a moment. When he didn't respond, Steve went on. "And yeah, I knew they'd be upset, but... I thought things would smooth over by now."

Phil shifted so that he was now facing him, but Steve didn't lift his hand, merely allowed it to slide along Phil's trim body. "How exactly? It's been two weeks and there's still a baby living with an Avenger. I think _that_ was the major point of contention here."

"So you do think I made a mistake."

Steve could see much better than most could at night and in the darkened room he was able to make out every single line that appeared on Phil's face, even though the frown was just a slight one. "I'm not going to answer that question," Phil said testily, "because you don't really want my honest opinion. You just want me to confirm your belief that you did the right thing."

He pulled his hand away and frowned. He turned away, his face pressed into the pillowcase that was starting to feel too warm against his cheek. "I guess I should have just let you take him to an orphanage after all."

"You're getting attached."

"How can you say that when I'm talking about sending him away?"

"Because I know you'd never do it," Phil countered. With a sudden click, Steve felt his eyes sting as the room was flooded with light. He squinted and blinked a few times before staring up at Phil who was currently leaning over him. "Admit it, even if I asked you to do it right now you wouldn't send him away, would you?"

Steve didn't say anything, because the thought alone was starting to make him feel dizzy. Yes Miles fussed and cried and pushed Steve's hand away at times, but he also reached out for him, slept peacefully in his arms, and looked up at him with wide coffee colored eyes and said "please" in a voice so sweet that it made his heart melt just thinking about it. How could he give up all of that? How could he think to send a child away when he was the only person he had left?

He sat there for a moment, struggling to think of just the way to answer Phil's question, but found his train of thought scattering when the sound of Miles's panicked cries filled the air. Phil shrugged and sank back against their bed. "Go ahead," he sighed in resignation. "I'll just wait here."

Steve left, but didn't come back, choosing instead to spend the night sleeping on the floor of the temporary room that was looking more permanent with each passing day.

\---

By the third week, Steve decided he couldn't take the thinly veiled hostility any longer. He asked the Avengers (and Coulson) to assemble in the Tower's meeting room in order to address the situation head on and was admittedly shocked when the others complied. (All except Tony, who conveniently had a meeting back in Malibu that he absolutely could not miss.) The tension in the air was thick enough to choke a horse and Steve wished he didn't have to bring Miles along with him, but there was no one else that he could trust to take care of the baby. 

A small part of him had thought that perhaps if the group saw just what it was that they were arguing about things would go easier, but Miles didn't like crowds, or at least didn't like them anymore, and Steve could feel the nervous energy radiating off of the poor boy. Steve placed a comforting hand on the back of Miles's head as he often did when the boy was upset and Miles responded by leaning in until his forehead was pressed against Steve's broad chest.

The gesture was slight, but it was enough to draw Natasha's sharp eyes towards Miles and once again everything in that simple glance was cold and grim. Clint noticed Natasha's frosty gaze and stiffened at her side. His elbow knocked against hers in a silent signal, but Natasha chose to ignore it and continue to stare.

"I called you all in here so we can clear the air about this issue," Steve said at last. He shifted Miles in his arms to silently make his point clear before going on. "I know that none of you are happy about this situation, but-"

"'Not happy' isn't exactly how I'd put it, Steve," Natasha cut in. "'Pissed off' even seems a bit weak right now."

"Natasha you know better than I do what would have happened to Miles if I hadn't taken him in," Steve countered. He had intended to go on, but whatever restraint Natasha had been using had been pushed aside and didn't seem likely to come back any time soon.

"You're damn right that I know better! Yeah being placed in a home would have sucked, but at least the kid would have been safe."

"I think what Natasha is trying to say," Clint cut in (and received a bitter glare from Natasha for his trouble), "is that this wasn't exactly a well thought out plan. Think about it: there's an armory _two floors_ up from the kid's room. He is literally sleeping under a room filled with guns and explosives!"

"Not to mention the human warzone sleeping down the hall," Natasha chimed in. She glanced over at Bruce who sat a little straighter at the implied mention. "No offense Bruce."

"None taken," he shrugged. His eyes flickered towards Miles for just a moment before darting away to meet Steve's gaze. "I don't think Hulk and baby exactly mix."

"And what happens if we're attacked?" Natasha went on. She was practically shaking with anger and Steve couldn't remember ever seeing her look this unhinged. "This isn't exactly a secret location. What happens if Loki comes back? If Doom attacks?"

"Do all of you really think I'm naive enough not to think of any of that?" Steve huffed. The shouting was beginning to get to Miles who was starting to shake with the force of oncoming tears. He gave his back a few gentle pats and hoped that it would be enough for now. "Of course I considered all of that."

"Considered, but didn't take it seriously," Bruce pointed out. His face was surprisingly gentle as he leaned across the table and fixed his gaze squarely on Steve. "Look, Steve, I know what it's like to have someone you want to protect. You'd never let anything bad happen to him and none of us would sit back and let him fall into harm's way either, but there are always variables, things you just can't control."

"I can't just send him away," he sighed. A day ago Steve felt as if he were being shunned, but today felt more like an open attack. "He doesn't have anyone."

"He has a _father_ ," Clint countered. "The guy may be in jail, but there's a chance he still wants his kid. What happens when he gets out? Are you really going to deny him the right to have his own son?"

Steve frowned. "Wait, when did this become about _custody_? Miles is only staying here until we can find him a permanent home."

"Really? Never would have guessed that given how you turned your apartment into baby central."

Steve stiffened, but Coulson's hand on his shoulder stopped him from saying anything.

"Cap, I think what the team is trying to say..." Coulson began, but this time it was Steve's turn to interrupt.

"Why are you sticking up for them and not me?" he snapped as he brushed off Coulson's hand. "You said you were with me on this!"

Coulson said nothing as a sheepish look settled onto his usually neutral features. His hand slipped further away from Steve until it was resting firmly on his own lap and clenching the hem of his jacket.

"Coulson thinks you're acting nuts, too." Coulson frowned at Natasha, who only returned his look with one of her own. "Don't sit there and pretend to be a good boyfriend. You told me just yesterday that you were worried Steve was getting too comfortable playing house." She turned to Steve then and her eyes had gone so dark that they almost looked black. "You can sit there and think that you're good and right, but we all know you're just being selfish. Give that kid up so he can find a real home, no matter how crappy it may be."

The room fell silent, but the others didn't have to say anything for Steve to know that, while Natasha's words had been a bit harsh, they echoed the feelings of the rest of the team. Even Coulson wouldn't look at him anymore and Steve suddenly felt alone in a room full of friends. 

His chest felt cold and tight. He didn't even realize that Miles had been crying until his little fists began tugging at his shirt. It wasn't the greatest excuse to leave, but it was a way out and Steve was willing to take it. He stood, his legs feeling surprisingly heavy as he did so, and hurried out of the room before anyone else could find their voice.

\---

Miles didn't stop crying even after they had returned to the apartment. Steve changed him, he fed him, he walked in circles around the apartment bouncing Miles in his arms, but nothing was stopping the tears from burning their way down his reddened face. Steve placed him on the ground and pulled out the few toys he'd purchased for the boy. There were building blocks, a toy truck, and a Spider-Man doll that had caught Miles's eye in the toy store. None of them seemed to interest him.

Steve felt his head throb and his own eyes begin to burn as frustration continued to well up in the pit of his stomach. There were so many thoughts and questions running through his head and the urge to just scream until he stopped crying was starting to look tempt him

Then Miles stood and walked towards the sliding glass window. He looked up at the sky, tears streaking down his round cheeks as one chubby little hand pressed against the clear glass in front of him. "Mama," Miles sniffed towards the sky. "TiTi! Mama! TiTi! Mama!"

Steve was thankful that the apartment was empty when tears began to flood his own eyes at the sight. He crawled over to Miles and sat down behind him, before placing a large hand against his back. "They're not here, buddy," he choked. "They're not coming back."

Miles didn't understand him, didn't even look at him, he only continued crying for two women he would never see again.

\---

Steve woke up the next morning with a stiff neck and a tingling leg after spending another night sleeping in Miles's room. To be more accurate, he had spent the night sleeping in an office chair in the den that was currently acting as Miles's room. His head was foggy and his stomach felt cold and nothing seemed any clearer than it had before. Things weren't working. The team was ready to rip him to shreds, Phil was getting more distant by the second, and Miles was miserable. He knew how to fix the situation, but it felt too much like giving up. 

With a tired groan he slowly raised his hand to his face, allowing it to press against his still closed eyes. He should have known better than to take this chance. It was foolish of him to think that he could be any kind of father, even a temporary one, when he'd grown up without a dad himself.

_Natasha's right. I am being selfish._

He gave his leg one or two quick slaps to get the feeling back before standing stiffly. He rubbed his neck, and blinked a couple of times against the few rays of sunlight that had slipped in through the window. Steve didn't usually sleep this late and Miles was usually up hours ago, but somehow time had slipped away from both of them.

"Okay little buddy, time for..."

The words caught in his throat when he looked down at the crib to find only pillows and blankets waiting for him. The panic that welled up in his chest was short lived when he noticed that the door was opened a crack, just wide enough to allow the sound of Phil's voice to slip inside. 

"'And Q R S. And T U V,'" Phil was saying in a voice that was much more tender and soothing than Steve could remember hearing. 

Steve gently pulled the door open and stepped softly out into the living room where he found Phil sitting on the couch with Miles on his lap. Phil wasn't wearing his typical suit and tie, just a pair of khakis and a navy blue t-shirt. A set of thick black framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, something he only used when he was alone and needed to read. Miles had been changed out of his pajamas and into a grayish-blue onesie with the Captain America shield displayed on his stomach. He was staring fixated on the book that Phil was holding in his hands, his little eyes seeming to absorb every colorful image spread out in front of him. 

"'Still more,'" Phil went on. "'W. And X Y Z! The whole alphabet up the - oh no!'" He paused just long enough to turn the page and Miles was already bouncing and clapping in anticipation of his favorite part. "'Chicka chicka...'"

"Boom! Boom!" Miles cheered, nearly jumping out of Phil's lap in excitement.

Steve smiled. He didn't want to interrupt the moment, but he couldn't stop the soft "wow" from escaping his lips. Both Miles and Phil twisted around at the sound of his voice and Steve found himself smiling even wider. "Wow," he said again. "You're... what's going on?"

"Giving you a break," Phil told him as he put the book down in order to give Miles a fond pat on the stomach. "I had a little time off and thought you could use an extra hand."

"Trying to get back on my good side?" Steve said as he took a seat beside the two on the couch. He didn't want to pick up where they left off, because there was nothing he hated more than fighting with Phil, but he also didn't want to keep hiding from the issue that was looming over them. 

Phil pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and began rubbing at his eyes. "Yeah," he grumbled. "I guess so. Sorry I wasn't more supportive."

Miles squirmed in Phil's lap as he reached across him in order to grab the book. Steve grabbed it and him, pulling both onto his lap. Miles happily flipped through the thick pages, taking a moment to point at shapes and letters and mutter "boom! boom!" to himself. 

"You don't need to apologize," Steve told him. "I was the one who was being selfish. This isn't working and I've just been too stubborn to admit that."

Phil placed a hand on his shoulder and Steve instantly found himself leaning into the touch. "This wasn't working, because I wasn't putting any effort into making it work. I'll admit it: I was unhappy, because I thought you were getting in over your head, but I should have talked to you about it. It was wrong of me to go behind your back and then let the others attack you like that."

Steve was embarrassed when he felt a familiar warmth building behind his eyes. Even if it was only Phil here with him, Steve still refused to cry, yet it was difficult when he knew what was coming. "I have to give him up, don't I?"

He expected the hand to leave his shoulder, but it only sat there for a moment before giving him a gentle squeeze. "You love him don't you?"

Steve didn't know how to answer that. Every ounce of him wanted nothing more than to protect Miles and make sure that he grew up right, but he still couldn't do more than give him fond pats or quick hugs, because there was still a strong voice in the back of his head telling him that this wasn't his baby and it wasn't his place to be so affectionate. "I don't know," Steve said at last. "I think I'm starting to love him. I just... I don't know how to stop myself."

Phil surprised Steve by kissing his cheek before placing a hand on Miles. "Don't stop yourself," he told him firmly. "If your heart is telling you to love him, then love him. We'll figure out the rest from there."

"What about you? Do you think you can love him?"

The way Phil stiffened didn't go unnoticed by Steve, but Phil still did his best to cover his tracks with a soft chuckle as he awkwardly rubbed his hands together. "I'll be honest with you, Steve: I never wanted kids. I never really wanted to settle down either, but then I met you and things changed." He kissed him again, on the lips this time. It was quick, but tender and made Steve relax just a bit. "Now all I want to do is make you happy and I'll do anything I can to make that happen. I promise."

He hesitated for a moment before leaning in to give Phil another peck on the lips. "I love you," he told him, "but the last thing I want to do is put you in a position that you feel you're being forced into."

"I understand. We won't say that anything is permanent. For now, we'll just give this some time and see how it all feels."

"What about the team?"

This time when Phil when still it was more obvious despite his best efforts not to be. Yet it didn't take long for him to regain his composure and pull a confident smile onto his features. "Don't worry about the others. I'll have a talk with them. For now, let's just worry about us."

He leaned in to give Coulson another kiss, but stopped when Miles threw his little hands against his chest and gave out a firm "Stop!" It was only then that Steve realized that Miles was practically sandwiched between them and each time the two kissed, they pressed into Miles. "Okay, okay, we'll stop," Steve chuckled as he bounced Miles affectionately in his lap. "Why did you let me sleep so late? I feel like the whole day's been wasted!"

"It's barely ten o'clock, Steve," Phil pointed out. "This is when most normal people would be waking up on their days off."

"Yeah, well Captain America never really takes a day off." He lifted Miles up and gave him a light toss. He'd used only a fraction of his strength, but Miles still flew a good foot above them before landing securely back in Steve's strong grasp. From the corner of his eyes Steve saw the way Phil's skin paled as Miles erupted into a fit of giggles. "Hear that little buddy, we're four hours late for our morning run and it's all Uncle Phil's fault."

The color quickly returned to Phil's face as he frowned distastefully at the nickname. "Let's never use that name again."


	3. The Brazilian Job

It had been almost two months since the Brooklyn incident when Captain America was called in for another mission. To say that Steve was annoyed at the sudden call was to put things mildly, because he had been enjoying spending time at home bonding with Miles. He was really starting to open up to Steve -- speaking more and crying less -- while the others were beginning to come around to the idea of having a baby living with them. The tension and awkwardness hadn't completely dissipated, but it was slowly starting to ease away and Steve felt confident that in no time at all the Tower would start to feel more like a real home. 

This mission, however, was likely to set their progress back a great deal and while Steve had done his best to explain this to Fury, the director was being less than receptive. "While I am aware of the 'delicate nature' of your current living situation, I have to remind you that work life and family life are two separate worlds," Fury had told him in a voice that was smothered with sarcasm with only a sprinkling of sincerity to it. "And you have been ignoring your work far too long in favorite of your new family."

Steve was tempted to argue that Miles wasn't family, but he decided against that tactic since it would be far too cold and not the least bit true. "With all due respect, sir, things are a bit complicated at the moment," he had reasoned. "Miles... he's..." He struggled to come up with the right word. "Helpless" didn't work, because Miles wasn't a delicate newborn and had extensive mobility and "difficult" painted the picture of the boy as being too much of a burden. "He's not used to having other people around."

Fury gave him a dull, unimpressed look, a clear sign that he was well aware of Miles's recent trauma, but felt that Steve was simply using it as an excuse not to do his job. "I'm sure you'll be able to work something out."

Steve knew well by now how to pick his battles with Fury and right now it was more than clear that this wasn't a fight he'd be able to win.

\---

The assignment wasn't an Avengers level emergency, so the majority of the team would stay behind while Captain America went in to deal with a hostage situation off the coast of Brazil. Black Widow was being brought in as his second in command, which Steve was less than thrilled about, while Coulson stayed behind to oversee things at home.

"You'll take care of Miles for me while I'm away, right?" Steve had asked over a dozen times since being given the orders to ship out. "I mean, if you think it's too much to handle, I could always ask someone else. Ms Potts might be able to find a sitter of some kind."

"Steve, I think I can handle it," Phil had assured him each time. "I've looked after him before, haven't I?"

It was true; Phil had stepped up a great deal in the past few weeks, helping with changings, feedings, and even the occasional bath time when he had enough post-work energy to spare. Yet Phil had never been alone with Miles for an entire day and this mission was likely to take at least two. The thought was enough to make Steve's insides tie themselves into knots.

_Get it together Rogers. This is Phil Coulson we're talking about._

He gave his head a rough shake and reminded himself that Phil was likely the most organized and thoroughly prepared man he'd ever met. Chances were he already had a plan _and_ a backup plan for every possible incident that could possibly transpire while Steve was away.

Yet somehow that wasn't enough to ease the knots that had formed deep inside. He supposed it had everything to do with the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about what Phil had said to him the day he had decided to take Miles home. 

_"It would be selfish of us to take in a child knowing that there will be times when one or both of us could be gone for days on end and possibly never come back."_

It was selfish and reckless and as he held Miles's small body in his arms, Steve kept getting flashes of the two dead women who had laid beside Miles on the day of the Brooklyn incident.

He pressed his cheek against the top of Miles's head, enjoying the feel of his dark curls against him and breathing in his scent. Steve wasn't in his uniform yet, so Miles was able to grab at the fabric of his shirt with his little fists and bury his face into Steve's chest. It was late, past his bedtime, and Miles was starting to grow cranky from lack of sleep. Or maybe he was just reluctant to see Steve go? It was hard to guess how aware the boy was, but at that moment Steve would put good money on those tears being from more than a missed nap time. 

"I'm leaving you here with Uncle Phil," Steve whispered to him. He ran a large hand over Miles's back and found the boy responding with sad little whimpers. "I want you to be a good boy and take care of him while I'm away. Okay little buddy?"

Miles babbled something that sounded vaguely like a yes and Steve was tempted to kiss his damp cheeks. He fought against the urge and handed him over to Phil. 

Phil took Miles into his arms and managed to balance him easily against one hip. Miles was too tired to put up a fight and merely rested his head on Phil's shoulder and closed his eyes. 

Steve smiled and tilted his head forward in order to kiss Phil. The kiss had been meant to be brief, but Phil placed a solid hand at the back of Steve's neck and held him firmly in place in order to deepen the gesture. "Don't think about us while you're away," Phil said in his Agent Coulson voice. It was a strange tone to use when he was kissing Steve and holding a dozing baby, but it conveyed the message well. "You need to keep your mind on the mission." He pulled away and gave Steve's forehead a light wrap in order to emphasize his point. "We'll only be a distraction."

He wanted to tell Phil and he and Miles weren't a distraction that they were his family, but he decided against it. Steve wasn't sure just how Phil would take a comment like that. Instead he kissed him, on his lips and then on both cheeks, before touching his hand to Miles's head. "Take care of each other while I'm gone."

\---

The mission was only meant to take two days, but an incident in Belem had mucked things up so badly that two days had morphed into a full week. Back up was called in, but the situation was still not Avengers level and so it was only a few more S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that came along to untangle their knots. Steve had managed to get in a few messages to Phil just to assure him that he was still alive, but minor updates weren't the same as an actual conversation and by the time they boarded the Quinjet to take them back to Manhattan, Steve was ready to sprint across the ocean to get back home.

Captain America hadn't exactly been dozing in his seat, but his gaze had been so fixated on the world outside his window that the jet's cabin might as well have been filled with empty space. He shifted his already stiff form and gripped at his own arms. Cap could hardly focus on anything other than the shape of the clouds and just what he was going to say to Phil and Miles when he saw them.

_Hugs first, then a shower, then dinner, then bed._ He frowned and reconsidered that. _Shower first, then hugs, then dinner, then bed. Maybe shower sex, then dinner..._

"Hey there Daddy."

Cap was so lost in his own head that he hadn't heard Black Widow approach and was more than a bit embarrassed when he jumped at the sound of her voice. "How long have you been sitting there?" he asked her surprisingly erect figure. She had already strapped herself into the seat beside him and was sitting with one leg firmly crossed over the other. Despite her rigid body, Steve knew just how tired Natasha actually was. Her usually bright red hair was dull and frayed, her sharp blue eyes were a touch red and thick bags hung beneath her lids. He had a feeling that if he nudged her just right, Widow would collapse on herself.

"Long enough," she shrugged and then moved closer.

Cap didn't know what to make of the sudden attention, because even after the team had chewed him out, Widow was still doing everything in her power to make her displeasure known. Even during their mission she hadn't spoken to him more than was absolutely necessary and had remained fixed on anything and everything else. Cap wondered if this was her way of saying that she had gotten over whatever issues had been bothering her, but he had a feeling it would take more than a couple of weeks and one mission to ease the friction between them.

"So who do you miss more: hubby or baby?"

Captain America felt his cheeks flush and was grateful that he was still wearing his cowl over his face. Hopefully it would be enough to hide the redness. He looked around the cabin towards the rest of the team and saw that most of them were either asleep or focused on other things. His relationship with Phil was well known among the Avengers and Steve had a feeling that more than a handful of S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives were aware that _something_ was going on between them, but Steve didn't like to discuss it in public. Steve loved Phil, loved their relationship, but putting into words feelings that he had been taught for years to stow deep inside was still too much for him to handle.

"Phil and I aren't married," he said lowly. "And Miles isn't our baby."

Her blue eyes may have been tired, but they were still sharp and Cap could feel that gaze raking over him. "But you love them?"

Cap shifted, feeling the blush under his cowl more prominently. "Yeah," he said a bit too quickly and then reconsidered. "I mean, yeah Phil, but Miles... it's... it's complicated."

He could practically hear her roll her eyes at him, but Widow remained surprisingly tight lipped as she once again shifted at his side. Cap pulled his eyes away from the window when he heard the sound of velcro straps peeling apart. He turned just in time for Widow to deposit a green doll into his lap. It took him a moment to realize that it was a Hulk plush toy and suddenly it was Cap's turn to stare at Widow. Her gaze was fixed on the opposite wall and if Cap didn't know any better he would have sworn that she was actually blushing.

"Kids should have toys," she said at last. "Not just the building blocks and trains you whittled out of drift wood."

"Is that a joke about me being old or cheap?"

She shrugged. "Take your pick."

He smiled and picked up the doll in his gloved hands. Its eyes were made from little black beads while its mouth was sewn into a permanent growl. He squeezed the little green stomach and was met with the sound of a muffled voice angrily saying "Hulk Smash!"

"Natasha..."

"I still don't think its right," she cut in. Her head never turned, but her posture seemed to stiffen as she clenched her arms in her gloved hands. "Him being there isn't safe. You shouldn't have interfered."

"So you're saying I should have just let him go to a half way home? Just let him be neglected and ignored as he bounced around that broken system?"

"I'm saying that it's not our place to make those decisions," she told him with a stubborn shake of her head. "The system has to be left to run its course, no matter how broken and messed up it may seem. You can't save everyone. It's beyond us."

Cap frowned as he gazed down at the little green doll in his lap. He ran a hand over the wild tuffs of moss green hair and was reminded of the first time he had held Miles, picking the frightened baby up out of the rubble and ash and holding him close to his chest. It hadn't felt wrong then and it still didn't feel wrong now. 

"Maybe I can't save everyone," Cap relented. "But I can at least try."

\---

It was late at night when Steve arrived back at home and Phil and Miles had fallen asleep waiting for him. Well, he assumed as much. Miles was already in bed and Phil had passed out on the couch surrounded by stacks of paper work. Steve was tempted to pick him up and carry him to bed, but he thought better of moving a senior agent in his sleep. Instead he crouched down beside him and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Phil groaned as he shifted awake. He had to blink his eyes a few times before they could focus on Steve. 

Phil gave him a tired smile as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He was wearing a gray t-shirt and sweats and his black framed glasses sat eschewed on the bridge of his nose. "Captain America? What do I owe the honor of having you in my home?"

Steve laughed as he looked down at himself and remembered that he was still wearing his suit. "Sorry, I was in a rush to get home."

"It's okay," Phil grumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his face. "You missed dinner. I ordered some pizza from Ray's."

His stomach growled at the thought. "Please tell me you saved me a slice."

"There's a whole pie with your name on it waiting in the oven."

Steve smiled and pecked his lips. "You're the best."

He was on his feet and heading towards the kitchen before Phil could even plant his feet on the ground. Having spent an entire week eating nothing but MRE's had left him feeling empty and Steve was more than ready to eat something with some actual flavor. He was practically humming when he pulled out the box and was instantly hit by the aroma of hot cheese and seasoned tomato sauce. He grabbed two slices and stacked them together in order to eat faster. Steve only ever ate like this in front of Phil, because he was too embarrassed by the idea of coming off like a gluttonous teenager in front of the others.

"Who's your friend?" Phil asked and Steve turned around to see that he had found the Hulk doll in his duffle bag.

He swallowed the mouthful of pizza with ease. "A gift from Natasha," he told him. "How was Miles?"

Phil's face grew solemn at the mention of the boy's name and suddenly Steve didn't feel like pizza anymore. "That's something we have to talk about." They sat down at the dinner table and Steve felt his stomach lurch and heart sink at Phil's too serious posture. "I got a call from his caseworker while you were gone," he explained. "There was a couple from Albany interested in adopting."

Steve felt his insides frost over at the words and all of a sudden every inch of him wanted nothing more than to grab Miles and hold him in his arms. He fought against the urge and willed himself to settle down. This may feel sudden, but it wasn't his place to act as a road block during this process. "Did... did you set up a meeting?"

"It already happened."

His whole body felt as if it were encased in ice. The apartment felt as if it were abruptly too small and cold and even as Phil slipped his hand into his grasp Steve found himself shuddering. "How did it go?"

Phil shrugged. "I wasn't in the room at the time, so I couldn't tell you first hand, but from what the caseworker said, it doesn't sound promising."

Steve was ashamed to admit that he felt himself thaw just a bit at that. "What happened?"

"Miles was distracted and fussy. He wouldn't let anyone hold him and when he came back to me, he was crying. That was three days ago and we've yet to hear back from the couple." Phil looked to Steve's hands and saw that they were trembling. He squeezed Steve's gloved fingers. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah I'm fine." He looked down at their joined hands and felt a stone of guilt forming in the pit of his stomach. He shouldn't be having these thoughts. It wasn't fair for Miles or Phil and Steve hated himself for being so selfish. "I guess I just wasn't expecting all this to happen so soon. Not while I was away at least. I mean, I was only gone for a week."

Phil's features softened a bit as he offered Steve's hand another squeeze. "There's something else we need to discuss..."

The sound of a creek and a soft thud caught his attention and Steve offered Phil a quick apology before standing to go into Miles's room where the sounds had originated. He opened the door gently and wasn't the least bit surprised to find the baby wide awake and standing at the bars of his crib. Miles's big brown eyes widened and a bright smile spread across his face when he saw Steve enter the room. Steve laughed when those little arms reached out for him and he didn't think twice about the fact that he was still wearing his dirty uniform as he picked the baby up and held him in his arms.

"Hey little buddy," he crooned. He gave Miles a little toss which resulted in an outpour of giggles. "Were you waiting up for me?"

"Dada!" Steve was stunned as he held Miles at arm's length. The toddler was squirming and squealing in his grasp as he continued to reach for Steve, practically begging to be allowed to get closer. "Dada! Dada da duh!"

Steve cradled him to his chest and felt the floor fall away beneath his feet as Miles began to pepper his chin with kisses in a way that he had never done before. It was only when Phil touched his damp cheek that Steve realized that he was crying. "Did you... did you teach him that?" he managed to choke out as he rocked the boy in his arms.

Phil shook his head. "He started saying it after you left. I figured he meant you. This just confirms it."

For a moment Steve forgot how much he hated crying in front of people as he stood there openly sobbing, he forgot that he wasn't supposed to kiss Miles as he pressed his lips against the top of his curls, and he forgot that he wasn't supposed to love this child as he felt his heart bursting with all the affection he could muster. He felt trapped and lost and completely overwhelmed as he stood there with that warm body against his in the dark little room. "Oh buddy," Steve whispered into tiny ears. "Don't. Please don't."

He barely registered as Phil's hands moved to his shoulders, guiding Steve over to the desk chair, where he sat heavily with Miles in his lap. Miles was sleepy, but his need for affection was still there as he continued to weakly chant "Dada" over and over as he traced the star on Steve's chest. Phil crouched down beside them and pressed his forehead against Steve's shoulder. It was only then that he realized that Phil was crying as well.

"The caseworker," Phil choked out weakly as he kept his head bowed and gaze on the floor. "She asked if we would be interested in adopting. I told her we'd have to talk about it."

"Phil," Steve began, but was instantly cut off by a teary kiss.

"We have to do this," Phil whispered to him. His face was still mostly pressed against him and Steve could not only feel this breath, but the tears that were trailing down his cheeks at the same time. "We have to... I see it now."

Steve placed his hand against the back of Phil's neck, the pad of his gloved thumb brushing against the short hairs on his scalp. "Phil, this isn't what you wanted. This... this is forever."

"I know. I know that." He sighed and kissed him again, kissed Miles and pressed his forehead against Steve's broad shoulder. "I want forever. I want our family to stay together."

Somehow Phil's words didn't help him to feel any less torn as he looked between the two of them. Miles had all but fallen asleep in his arms and Steve felt his chest tighten as he watched those dark little lashes flutter peacefully. "I can't Phil... I can't," Steve whispered in a voice that was surprisingly strained. "I _can't_ be a father. I don't know how."

Phil actually managed to chuckle in spite of himself as his hands reached up to cup Steve's damp cheeks. His kisses were quick, but insistent and Steve found that he needed them. "Steve, you're already a good father. You've been doing just fine on your own. Now we'll do this together. For real."

The next morning they called the case worker and told her they wanted to adopt Miles and for a short time the world was perfect and right, but it didn't take long for things to fall apart.


	4. Worth Fighting For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is on the longer side and features some harsh language. Sensitive readers be warned: homophobic and racially charged language to follow.

The Tower had gone through a great deal of renovations over the years as it morphed from just another Stark Industries building to the headquarters of the Avengers. The ten floors of research and development had been moved to the lower levels, while the top stories were now dedicated solely to the superhero team. The only thing that hadn't changed was the fact that the penthouse still belonged to Tony and there were only two people with access to that level: Stark himself and Pepper Potts. 

With Tony gone for nearly two months, the top floor had been left on lockdown, much to the dismay of Clint and Natasha who desperately wanted access to the massive and ever stocked bar. Steve, for his part, missed the view that the penthouse offered, while Bruce wanted access to the science magazines and other technical goodies that Tony kept stashed away in his private quarters. So when Pepper dropped by to check up on the team, they were all eager to have an excuse to break in and enjoy the perks of the restricted area.

"So is he going to be Miles Rogers or Miles Coulson?"

Steve flushed slightly as he watched Pepper bounce Miles playfully in her lap. She was good with children with her soothing voice, authoritative demeanor, and abundance of patience. "All necessary qualities when dealing with Tony Stark," she had joked, but Steve still marveled at how naturally she looked holding the footie pajama wearing baby against her business suit clad figure. A slim manicured hand ran over the boy's round stomach and Miles craned his head upward to gaze at Pepper's smiling face.

"Neither of us is really keen to pick and choose, ma'am," he shrugged. 

"Maybe Miles Coulson-Rogers, then?" she teased.

His cheeks were positively burning at the seemingly innocent comment. Even if it didn't exactly roll off the tongue, Steve liked the sound of their names pressed together. "That's a bit of a mouthful," he said sheepishly. "We're actually just thinking of letting him stay Miles Morales. It just suits him."

"But it'll be a bit confusing, won't it? You'll be his parents, but you'll all have different last names."

He shrugged. "We'll work around it. Besides, we're not trying to erase his entire history, just bring him into the family."

"That's sweet," Pepper said, but Steve could tell what she really meant was that she thought he was a naive sap. That's usually what people meant when they called him sweet.

"So how's Tony doing?" he asked as he gently pried Miles out of Pepper's lap. It was feeding time and he didn't want to risk having any food fall on Pepper's expensive clothes. There was already a plate of decided bananas and strawberries nearby, which Miles accepted with a soft "thanks" before proceeding to dig in. "He's been hiding out in Malibu for a while now. Is he ever coming back or is this his not so subtle way of quitting the Avengers?"

Pepper gave him a wide, tightlipped smile, one that said quite clearly that it took more patience that Steve could ever muster to pull off her job. "Officially, Tony has a lot of work on his plate and will get back to his side projects as soon as his schedule clears," she said in a business tone that had been formed over many years of practice. "Unofficially, Tony has a hard time dealing with certain things, but I wouldn't take it personally. He'll be back when he's ready."

"So you're saying that the brilliant Tony Stark is afraid of babies?" Steve laughed as he bounced Miles on his knee. "The world really never stops surprising you, does it?" He stilled when he noticed that the tight lipped smile on Pepper's face began to look a bit more strained. "Oh, I'm sorry. I hope I haven't touched on a sore subject."

"No, it's fine," she said with a wave of her hand. She grabbed her mug of coffee and took a long sip and for a moment Steve wondered if she was avoiding continuing the conversation. "We've had that talk already," she explained at length, "and we already decided that it wasn't in our future. It's just... difficult being with a man who has so many... _things_ he doesn't want to deal with. The baby thing is just a smaller part of a bigger issue."

Steve nodded before grabbing his morning protein shake and taking a long gulp. Suddenly he felt like an insensitive heel. After all, Steve had known Howard Stark for a few years and he couldn't imagine that the man would have been a very nurturing father. Maybe seeing Miles, alone and abandoned, brought back a lot of uncomfortable memories of Tony's own lonely childhood.

He choked briefly when he felt Miles's little hands slap at the base of his glass. Steve swallowed before putting the cup down and meeting Miles's wide eyed gaze. "Dada," Miles said as his little fingers began grasping at air. "Please? Please?"

"Please what?" Steve asked gently. "Use your words buddy."

"Bahbuh," he said as he pointed at Steve's glass. "Please?"

He laughed and grabbed the blue and green sippy cup on the other side of the counter. "Okay, okay. Here's your bahbuh." He traded the plate of fruit for the cup and Miles accepted it with a polite "thanks" before eagerly sucking down his juice.

"He's so polite," Pepper cooed as she reached over to grab Miles's chubby little leg. Miles acknowledge the touch with a brief little giggle which caused a trail of juice to dribble down his chin. "You're such a good influence."

Steve wanted to say that Miles was polite before he had met him, but he was interrupted when Natasha all but slammed a bottle of champagne onto the counter. "Didn't you know, Pepper? Steve here's competing for the New York Mother of the Year award." Clint came over with a jug of orange juice and a stack of plastic cups, which he proceeded to spread out in a neat little row. "Anybody want a mimosa?"

"Isn't it a bit early for alcohol?" Steve chided as he gently wiped the juice from Miles's chin.

"That's why I'm making mimosas. They're a breakfast drink."

Natasha opened the champagne while Clint poured orange juice into the cups. Steve continued to guzzle his protein shake while the others drank their mimosas. "Okay, let's make it a rule that from now on nobody can drink around the baby?" Steve groused.

"You do realize that Tony Stark lives here, right?" Clint countered.

"Does he still live here? I thought he moved out."

"He'll be back," Pepper assured them as she finished off her cup. "Where's Dr. Banner? Doesn't he want a drink?"

Bruce emerged from the backroom then with a rolled up magazine tucked under his arm and a green stuffed doll in his hand. Steve stiffened when he realized that Bruce had found the Hulk doll that had gone missing last night. His face didn't look so much angry as it did tired and annoyed as he held the doll so that it was eye level to the others. "Anyone care to explain this?" he asked before giving the doll's middle a quick squeeze. It produced a muffled growl that caused Clint and Natasha to burst into a fit of giggles.

"Mine!" Miles cried as he twisted around in Steve's lap and reached for his missing doll. "Please? Please?" Bruce's features softened as he walked over to Miles and offered him the Hulk doll. Miles gave him a shy "thanks" as he hugged the doll to his chest and Bruce rewarded him with an awkward pat on the head.

"Natasha," Steve sighed as he turned towards the woman who was struggling to control her laughter. He pried the mostly empty sippy cup from the baby's hands and placed it on the counter so that Miles could better hold his doll. "Did you take that doll out of Miles's room just to pull a prank on Dr. Banner?"

"Hey, I gave it to him," she said once her voice was no longer wobbling with laughter, "I should be able to borrow it whenever I want."

Bruce crouched down so that he was eye level to Miles. "Just remember kid: Hulk is not a toy."

Miles made a noise that sounded a bit like a hiccup, but was more likely an attempt to say the word "Hulk."

\---

Steve didn't realize he had fallen asleep until Phil nudged him awake. He groaned and blinked for several minutes before lifting his face from the folds of his arms. He looked up to see Phil crouched down beside him and the warm weight on his back told him that Miles was nearby. Steve looked down and found himself staring at the off white carpet of their apartment and suddenly he remembered how he had pushed the furniture aside in order to play horsey with Miles. Apparently play time had taken a bit more out of him than he had anticipated.

"You two have a fun day?" Phil asked as he lifted Miles off of Steve's back. Phil had naturally careful hands and was easily able to lift Miles up without waking him.

"Yeah." Steve yawned as he propped himself up on his elbows. "After our morning run, Ms Potts stopped by and we had breakfast with the team. Then we went for a bike ride in the park and took a trip down to the museum... Um, I don't think I ever got started on dinner."

"It's okay. Its better you forgot than blacked out half way through cooking and burned the building down."

Steve laughed as he rolled into a sitting position. Even the extra energy the super soldier serum provided didn't seem to be enough to take care of a baby for a full day without needing to take a break. Then again, Steve and Miles had been a bit more active than usual lately, spending hours at the park or wandering around the city from morning until sunset, so maybe it was all starting to catch up to him.

The lightness he had been feeling quickly evaporated when he took a good look at Phil and saw the worry behind his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

Phil shifted so that he was sitting cross legged on the floor. "My day wasn't so great," he admitted. "I got some bad news from the caseworker. In order for the adoption to go through, we need to get Jefferson Davis to sign away his parental rights..."

"Which he won't do," Steve finished. Phil nodded. "Did she say why?"

"Jefferson Davis is a decent enough guy who made a few mistakes and is dealing with them," Phil said, prefacing things the way he often did before delivering the final blow. "But he also has some very complicated feelings about the super hero issue and was less than thrilled when he found out that Captain America was trying to adopt his son."

Steve felt his heart sink as his eyes fell on Miles sleeping soundly in Phil's arms. "I don't believe this."

"It gets worse," Phil sighed. "When he found out that we were a same sex couple he became positively livid. He wants Miles moved into a different foster home immediately."

"What!" Steve regretted shouting the second Miles woke up sniffling, but the feelings were just too intense to hold back. He had thought that his world had been starting to frost over, but after hearing this new information he found that everything was sweltering red. "You have to be kidding me! Who told him about us?"

"The caseworker did Steve, she had to."

"No she didn't! She... he..." He slammed his fist into the ground, a gesture that caused the entire apartment to shake and Miles to cry out in fear. "I don't believe this. I can't believe it! We can't let this happen!"

Steve was so tense that he barely registered that Phil had grabbed his arm until he gave his sleeve a firm tug. "I'm more than willing to fight this, but Steve we have to keep our cool. Jefferson may be in prison, but if he wanted to he could make enough noise to draw a lot of unwanted attention to us." 

"I don't care about attention! I care about Miles!" It was only after he spoke that Steve realized that Miles was now weeping in fear because of him. This was the first time Miles had ever seen him lose his temper, something that he should have known better than to do in front of a child who had gone through so much in the past few months. He took a long deep breath and allowed himself to feel like a horse's ass. "I'm sorry. I just, I didn't expect any of this to happen. It should have been easy. Now that no good, deadbeat jailbird..."

"He's still Miles's father." Steve wanted to say that _he_ was Miles's father now, but he swallowed the words in his throat. It wouldn't be right. He was already pushing it as it was by saying such horrible things about Jefferson in front of Miles. "We'll figure this out," Phil promised. He probably would have given Steve's hand a supportive squeeze if he weren't currently busy trying to soothe Miles. "Miles is still here, he's still ours, so let's just enjoy that for now."

Steve nodded, but simply couldn't find it in himself to feel better.

\---

It was nearly three in the morning when Steve woke up to an empty room. He knew that Phil was gone before opening his eyes, because his scent had nearly evaporated and the other side of the bed had gotten noticeably lighter (to Steve at least). He stretched his hand out to the now empty space beside him and found that the blankets had gone cold, a clear sign that Phil had left a while ago. He blinked his eyes a couple of times to adjust to the darkened room and saw a small sliver of light shining from beneath the crack in the door.

Steve eased himself out of bed and slowly slipped into the living room where he found Phil sitting on the couch watching television. Neither Phil nor Steve were big fans of television, but Tony had personally installed sixty inch plasmas in every one the living quarters. They kept theirs, but rarely used for anything other than the odd game or newscast. Yet here Phil was, sitting in the dark, his t-shirt and boxer clad body illuminated by the light from the glowing screen with a glass of scotch resting on the coffee table. Steve could tell the glass had yet to be touched, but he still poured himself a drink and came to sit down beside Phil. He didn't like the idea of him drinking alone.

"Anything good on?" Steve whispered as he sat down beside Phil.

It was impossible to sneak up on the man, so he wasn't at all surprised when Phil didn't flinch at the sound of his voice, merely looked up in acknowledgment with a slight smile. "Mostly infomercials," he shrugged. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Steve told him as he placed his glass down beside Phil's. "Are you okay?"

Phil was quiet for a moment and Steve wasn't sure if it was the dim lighting or the late hour, but he suddenly looked remarkably tired and small as he sank down into the chair. "Honestly, I don't know."

Steve did his best not to let his worry show as he scooted closer to Phil's side. "Care to talk about it?"

He was a bit surprised when Phil not only closed the space between them, but pressed his head against Steve's side. Steve shifted and wrapped his arm around Phil, careful not to squeeze too hard. "I don't know. I suppose I'm just frustrated. I'm sorry; I know you're probably tired of talking about it, but..."

"I'm fine with talking about it," Steve assured him. "If you need to talk, we'll talk. It's okay."

Phil hesitated. He wasn't used to unloading, always keeping things bottled down inside while managing other people's problems, but Steve could see that he needed to unburden himself and he would be a terrible person if he didn't let him. "Everything was just moving so fast," he said after a good deal of internal debate. "One minute it was just us and then there was Miles and this adoption and now this whole Jefferson situation. I feel like we were going a hundred miles a minute only to have the breaks slammed. I wanted everything to be perfect and simple, but instead it all got screwed up."

Steve gave a supportive smile as he used his free hand to grab Phil's. "Hey, neither of us could have seen this mess coming. It's not your fault."

"Actually it is." His shoulders slumped as he bowed his head. "I was the one who told Jefferson about us."

" _You_?" Steve blushed at the sound of his own voice and was thankful that Miles hadn't woken up.

Phil nodded. "I thought if he knew that it wasn't just Captain America taking in his son, he'd feel easier about the whole situation. I was already aware of his prejudices against super heroes and mutants, but I didn't think that it went that deep."

Steve hugged Phil, holding him perhaps a bit too tightly against him, before placing a firm kiss to the top of his head. "It's not your fault. You did your best."

"Will you still say that when Miles leaves?" Phil asked and Steve felt himself grow pale at the question. It wasn't because Phil had asked him that or even that he had allowed the possibility to turn real, but the way he had said it. His voice sounded weak, defeated and Steve couldn't accept the idea that Agent Phil Coulson had actually given up.

"No," he said firmly. "That's not going to happen. We're not going to let that happen, Agent." Phil pulled away and frowned up at him, but Steve went on. " _I'll_ talk to Jefferson. I'll meet with him in person so we can talk man to man. He can either hear me out or not, but I'm not giving up on our boy without a fight."

\---

Jefferson Davis was incarcerated in a minimum security corrections facility near Staten Island with a fifteen year sentence. He was a repeat offender with a record that stretched back into his teens. In prison he was a model inmate -- stayed out of trouble, put in his work hours, and served his time peacefully -- but on the streets he had been a desperate man who didn't seem to think his actions through. That was all the information that Coulson had given him before Steve decided to make his visit and in spite of Phil's insistence that Jefferson was a "decent man," Steve went in ready for the worst.

Being Captain America once again proved to have its perks as the guards were already familiar with him and didn't hesitate to allow the last minute visitation. Yet even still he was stopped and searched by security before entering. This wasn't the first prison he had seen. During the War, Captain America had helped to lead a number of prison breaks, and the idea of walking into a jail and not intending to break someone out felt a bit strange to him. 

Steve had to remind himself that he wasn't Captain America today, just plain Steve Rogers. He wore a pair of khakis and a green flannel shirt beneath a brown jacket. The idea was to have Jefferson see him as a man, not a uniform, and hopefully that would be enough to ease some of the tension he was feeling. Hopefully Miles being with him would help as well. Phil and the others had tried to talk him out of bringing a baby into a corrections facility, but Steve needed Jefferson to understand that he wasn't trying to keep his son hostage and having the boy there was the best way to communicate that message. 

Steve hadn't known just how to dress Miles for the visit since most of his shirts sported an emblem of some sort, so he bought him a gray hooded jacket and a white shirt to go along with his dark blue pants. Surely that would be neutral enough for Jefferson's taste.

The visitation center was a dingy little room with ugly gray brick walls and rickety old tables. There weren't bars on the windows, there were grates, and the glass was so badly smudged that the light came in with an odd yellow tinge. Each table had a prisoner speaking intensely to a loved one. Most of them were weeping, others were talking intensely as their hands twitched with the urge to touch, but that was strictly against the rules. One of the inmates was speaking stiffly to a man in a suit and Steve guessed that it was his lawyer. He wondered if Jefferson had spoken to an attorney, if he was seeking legal aid in order to get Miles back. The thought was oddly chilling and he found his grasp tightening on the little boy.

A door opened in the rear of the room and a man walked out with a guard following close behind. Steve had never seen his picture, but he recognized Jefferson Davis right away. It was alarming how much he looked like Miles. They had the same nose, the same lips, and the same shaped eyes, but while Miles's brown eyes twinkled with youthful innocence, Jefferson's were dull and tired and filled with a hate for the world that had forced him into his current situation.

Steve stood when the man approached him. He was a touch smaller than him, with a wiry frame hidden beneath the bright orange jumpsuit he was currently wearing. Jefferson's head was shaved bald while Steve's bright yellow hair was neatly combed and parted and his face sported a thick black beard that made Steve want to scratch at his own smooth chin. Distantly, he wondered if it was possible for two people to stand in more contrast to one another. 

"Jefferson Davis?" he greeted as he offered the man his hand. "Steve Rogers."

Jefferson looked at him, looked at his hand, and then looked at Miles before pulling out his chair and taking a seat. Steve frowned though he wasn't surprised and sat down across from him. Jefferson's eyes flickered towards Miles periodically, but he seemed to force himself to look away just as often. "People said you were taller," Jefferson said at length. "As big as that guy with the hammer."

"Thor? No. He's a bit taller than I am." Jefferson gave an indifferent nod and refused to meet Steve's gaze. He glanced at the clock and Steve followed his eyes. They didn't have much time. "I apologize for doing this so last minute, but I thought we needed to talk man to man in order to work this out."

A short laugh escaped Jefferson as his lips twisted into a bitter smirk. "Nothing to talk about," he said. "You wanna take my boy. I won't let you."

"With all due respect, I don't think you quite understand the situation. I'm not trying to take anyone away from anyone. I just want to offer Miles a good life and a decent home, something that I'm sure you'd like for him as well. We have to think of what's best for Miles."

Jefferson's head turned so suddenly that Steve nearly flinched. "And you think you know what's best for my son?" he snapped. "You think I'd let a fag like you raise my kid?" Steve did flinch at that. The word had been spoken so sharp and loud that many of the inmates and their families turned to look at them. "My boy needs to grow up to be a _man_. A real man. You think you can do that?"

It would have been so easy for him to punch Jefferson in his smug face. He wouldn't even have to use half of his strength in order to send the man flying across the room, yet he shoved that thought away not because of the cameras or guards or even because it was wrong, but because of Miles. Steve merely stiffened, sitting that much straighter in the metal chair as his left hand balled into a fist below the table and his right hand held Miles closer against his chest. "I think the definition of a man is relative," Steve countered as calmly as he could manage. "What's really important is that Miles grows up to be _good_."

"And you'd make him good? _You_?" Jefferson shook his head as his whole body turned tense. "I went in here thinking there'd be a life waiting for me on the other side. A family, a home... Now my woman is dead, my home is gone, and you want me to just sit back and let you take away the only thing I've got left?"

"I won't take him away. I'll let him come see you. He'll know your name and who you are."

"But he'll call you 'daddy,'" Jefferson countered. "You and your man will raise him. What about me? I shouldn't have to force my way into my own son's life."

"Mr. Davis, please. I... I'm not doing this to hurt you. I did everything I could to prevent that attack. I was the one who pulled Miles out of wreckage. I believe that it wasn't just chance that brought him to me, I think it was fate."

"Fate? You're saying _God_ did this? God killed Rio and gave you my baby?" Even as he shook his head and laughed, Steve could see that tears were starting to form behind Jefferson's eyes. "My poor little black baby saved from the ghetto by the blond haired white man. That was God's plan, huh?"

Steve sat back stunned as he found himself with nothing to say. He had never even considered the situation that way. 

A guard announced that visiting hours were almost over and Steve was quick to hand Miles over to Jefferson when he asked to say goodbye.

Miles tensed in Jefferson's arms, his eyes turning wide as he looked at the man's strained face and reddening eyes. "Hey little man," Jefferson whispered to Miles as he bounced him on his knee. "Been a while, huh?"

His heart clenched in his chest as Miles twisted in Jefferson's arms, panicked tears filling his brown eyes as he reached out for Steve. "Dada," he sniffed. "Dada! Daduh!"

"Your dad's right here, baby boy," Jefferson crooned as Miles continued to fuss in his grasp. He tried to kiss his curls, but Miles ducked his head and pushed away. "Your dad's right here."

Miles didn't seem to hear a word Jefferson said as he pushed his father's hand away and continued to kick and cry for Steve. The tears were flowing out of Jefferson's eyes as he bore into Steve with the most pained gaze he had ever seen. In that moment Steve saw himself the way Jefferson did. He was a monster.

\---

Tony returned to the Tower two weeks later. He told everyone that he had taken care of things in Malibu, but Steve and Phil knew the real reason was that Pepper had told him about the Jefferson situation. Tony made his rounds of the building, chastising Clint and Natasha for raiding his bar and not so politely asking Bruce to return the books and magazines he'd borrowed. He came to their apartment last and politely waited to be allowed inside even though he has access codes and keys for all their personal quarters.

It was only when Tony entered and looked around the apartment that Steve began to realize how much things had changed in the past few months. The spare room/office had officially been turned into Miles's nursery once Steve and Phil had decided to go through with the adoption. They'd painted the walls a soft blue, got rid of the desk and office chair and replaced them with a changing table and rocking chair. The amount of toys had nearly tripled over night, with a fair amount of help from the other Avengers, which resulted in a toy chest appearing in both the nursery and living room alongside the bin containing spare diapers and wipes. There was a high chair at the dinner table, a car-seat waiting in the corner, and alphabet magnets on the fridge, holding up crayon drawings and quickly snapped pictures. It was only now that Steve began to realize that they may have jumped the gun a bit.

"Wow," Tony said as he toed the stack of legos left unattended in the living room. "Natasha was not kidding when she called this 'baby central.'"

Miles chose that moment to come running in carrying his Iron Man action figure by its leg and swinging it in the air. He was making happy squealing noises until he saw Tony and stopped dead in his tracks. Tony looked down at him then turned towards Steve and frowned.

Steve shrugged as he lifted Miles into his arms. "Clint," he said in order to explain the doll.

"It sort of became a thing among the team," Phil shrugged as he walked into the room behind Miles. "Natasha gave him a Hulk, Clint gave him Iron Man, and Banner gave him Thor."

"And he's got the real Captain America here for his mommy," Tony smirked. "That's sweet."

Steve frowned at that comment. He knew it was just a joke, but his stomach twisted none the less. "Don't."

"Actually Miles calls him 'daddy.'"

The surprised look on Tony's face was genuine and Steve didn't know just how to feel about it. "Really?" He stared at Steve for a moment as if to gage his reaction, but Steve didn't give him the pleasure as he turned away in order to take Miles into the kitchen with him. "And what does he call you?"

Steve could practically hear the way Phil shrugged. "Uncle Phil."

He grabbed a sippy cup out of the cupboard and filled it with a bit of the smoothie Steve had blended for them. "Why does he get to be 'Daddy' if you're 'Uncle'?"

"It was a place holder name," Phil explained in his Agent Coulson voice. "It just sort of stuck."

"Well that doesn't sound fair. I think I like mom and dad better. It has a natural ring to it."

"Stop, just stop!" Steve snapped before carefully adjusting his tone when he remembered that Miles was still beside him. He gave a frustrated sigh as he handed Miles his smoothie and put the Iron Man figure aside. "He already has a mom and dad, and it's not us, okay?"

The room grew silent and the air turned thick with a tension that even Miles could feel. His big brown eyes flickered between all three adults as he continued to drink from his cup. After a moment he pulled the tip from his between lips and offered it to Steve. "You?"

Steve smiled and gently pushed the cup away. "No thanks buddy."

Miles blinked and turned towards Tony. "You?"

A small sliver of a smirk crossed Tony's lips as he stepped away from Miles's outstretched arms. "I don't think it's strong enough for me," he said before turning towards Phil. "I take it that the situation hasn't cleared up yet."

Phil's gaze flickered over to Steve whose shoulders slumped under the weight of his stare. They had both tried and failed to reason with Jefferson Davis and neither one of them was good at dealing with such heavy losses. Steve wanted to sit back and pretend that it wasn't happening, that Miles was still going to be with them in the future, but every now and again Phil would bring up the idea of packing and Steve would lose his head.

"We haven't heard anything from Davis in a couple weeks," Steve admitted at length, "but it doesn't look good."

When a hand came to rest on his shoulder, Steve half expected it to be Phil's but was surprised to see an expensive watch and tanned skin marking the hand comforting him. "Hey, I have a ton of lawyers on my payroll. I don't know if any of them specialize in this sort of thing but..."

"No, Tony, it's okay," Steve assured him. "Phil and I talked about this. We're not going to fight it. Miles is still Jefferson's son and we're going to honor his wishes."

Tony shook his head as his features twisted in a way that made it seem as if it was his own heart on the line. "No, fuck that. Sorry, but fuck that. A kid needs a dad, but he doesn't need a crappy dad, he needs a good dad. And if he can get two great dads out of the deal, then he's better off."

"Tony."

"I'm going to help," he insisted. "I want to help. I'm going to help."

"Stark," Coulson cut in. "The last thing we want to do is bully Jefferson with a bunch of high priced lawyers."

"Fine, one lawyer. Just one. And I'll make sure it's the best in the business, because you're keeping this kid." Tony looked at Miles. He had finished off his drink and was trying to reach for the Iron Man doll without dropping the cup in his hands. "That's your kid."

Steve looked over at Phil who was smiling, actually _smiling_ , at Tony. Phil was standing a few steps behind him so Stark couldn't see the gesture, but Steve still found it touching. Steve grinned and bounced Miles on his hip. "Do you want to hold him?"

At first Tony stiffened and Steve expected him to say no, but then something seemed to click in his head and suddenly Tony took a half step closer to pluck Miles out of his arms before Steve could even tell him how to hold him. "C'mere kid. Come play with the real Iron Man." Miles tensed slightly and Steve was careful to keep his hand on the back of his head in order to reassure the boy to his presence. Tony smiled at Miles then turned to Phil, who had already gone back to his neutral grin. "Can I be 'Uncle Tony'? Would that be inappropriate?"

Phil and Steve stared at each other, both feeling at a loss. None of the other Avengers had taken up the 'aunt' or 'uncle' moniker, but Steve remembered what Pepper had said about Tony's issues and figured that this must have been his way of dealing with them. So he shrugged and Phil told him that it was fine.

Tony's smile widened as he gave Miles a fond pat on the back. "Hope you like living here kiddo, because you're gonna be around for a long time. And since this is technically my house, I get to make the rules okay? So stay up as late as you want, eat plenty of junk food, and don't bother doing your homework. It's just busy work anyway."

"Okay Tony, that's enough," Steve chided as he tried to snatch Miles away, but Tony took a quick step to the side in order to avoid his grasping hands.

"Watch out for mom. He's got a real mean temper."

"Thank you Tony, you're done."

"Has Cap been breastfeeding you kiddo? Cause you look a lot bigger than the last time I saw you."

"I liked it better when you were afraid of babies."

\---

The last thing Steve was expecting when he answered his phone that afternoon was an automated message saying that an inmate from a New York State corrections facility was attempting to contact him. Yet that was exactly what happened. He knew right away that it was Jefferson Davis and while half of him was brimming with excitement and hope, the rest of him felt certain that Davis was only calling so he could insult him again. Even with that bitter thought in mind he accepted the call.

"How did you get this number?"

The laugh that Jefferson gave was short and without humor and Steve found himself frowning at the phone. "Social worker," he said simply. "Look we need to talk."

Steve wanted to point out that they already had talked, that Jefferson was the one who had been avoiding him for weeks, and that reaching out to him out of the blue like this and pretending to extend an olive branch was a clear indication of how much of a stubborn fool he was, but he didn't. Instead he gave a simple, tight "yeah" and waited.

"I've been thinking. I've been thinking a lot." There was a heavy pause during which Steve couldn't help but consider that given his situation, there really wasn't much else for Jefferson to do aside from think. "You and your man... you both had the decency to come talk to me, try to be reasonable, while most people would have just talked through lawyers. That shows a lot of guts and I appreciate that. You also said you'd be willing to let Miles stay in my life... I don't think I'd find other people willing to give me a better deal. So I'm willing to work things out, make some kind of deal for Miles."

His heart leapt up and down a hundred times in one second as Steve sat down so heavily that he nearly slipped off of the couch. "Of course," he struggled to say. "Anything. If it's within my power I'll do my best to do it."

"First things first, you gotta promise me Miles will never turn into some costumed freak. You and your buddies, you can do your thing, but not my boy. I don't want that life for him."

Steve nodded as he looked down at Miles, playing peacefully on the floor with his little lego bricks as he chattered nonsense to himself. "I don't want that either," he said sincerely. "Trust me Mr. Davis, the last thing I want is to see Miles in any kind of danger. I swear to you, he'll never put on a mask or wear a disguise. I'll do everything in my powers to make sure he stays a normal boy."

There was a heavy puff of breath on the other end of the line and Steve assumed that it was the sound of Jefferson sighing in relief. "Another thing, I don't want Miles to ever lose sight of who he is and where he came from. Miles is black, okay? He's a black boy. He's also Puerto Rican. I want him to remember that."

"Of course," he insisted. "Of course, I'll make sure that he knows all about his heritage. We'll even teach him Spanish if you want."

Jefferson didn't respond to that. His mind seemed fixated too much on the next thing he wanted to say to focus on Steve's response. "There's... there's one more thing," he managed to choke out and Steve could tell right away that Jefferson was fighting back tears. "Rio... she used to bring Miles by every month. Guess that wasn't enough for him to remember me..."

Steve nodded, his stomach tightening when he remembered the devastated look on Jefferson's face when he'd heard Miles call Steve "Dada." The memory still haunted him at times and soured the name a bit. A part of him had been tempted to wean Miles off of saying it at all, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a large part of his heart that thrilled when that word was spoken from Miles's sweet little lips. "I can't promise we'll be able to maintain a regular schedule for visits," Steve said after a bit of thought, "Our schedules can be a bit inconsistent at times. I can only promise that I'll bring him by as often as I can. I'll send you our mailing address so you can write to him whenever you want and when he gets older, he'll write back."

"What about when I get out?" Jefferson asked suddenly and Steve had to admit he wasn't expecting that question. "I have thirteen years left, but I could get out sooner with good behavior."

Steve said nothing to that as he silently sat back and wished that Phil hadn't left for work already. He looked at Miles, then the ceiling, then out the window as he struggled to come up with something to say. "I'm sorry Mr. Davis, but I don't really have an answer for that right now. It's something I'd have to talk about with my partner," he said at last. "All I can say is that Miles will be safe and happy with us, and when he grows up, if he decides to be with you... well, we'll all have a long talk about it."

The silence that followed that response didn't seem the least bit happy or pleased, but Steve had a feeling that Jefferson was at least temporarily satisfied. "I don't have much time left," he said wearily. "Is it alright if I talk to my boy?"

Steve agreed. He slid off of the couch and crouched down on the ground beside Miles, who had been busy staking his blocks into a tower and seemed a bit irritated at being interrupted. "Come here, Miles. Come talk to Dada."

Miles echoed the word as he often did when it was spoken and Steve felt a little guilty about the trick. It was likely the only way he could get Miles to refer to Jefferson that way. He scooped Miles up in his arms and placed him on his lap, the phone pressed against his little ear as he continued to look up at Steve and chant "Dada dada!" over and over again. 

Steve hadn't intended to listen, but his hearing was acute enough that he was easily able to pick up the sound of Jefferson's relieved laughter on the other end of the line. "Hey little man," he greeted happily. "You remember your dad now, huh?" It was clear that Miles did not as his little features fell into a frown at the strange voice and he visibly pulled away from the phone. Yet Miles stayed quite while Jefferson continued to speak. "Listen little man, I want you to be good, okay? Your dad's gonna be gone for a while, but you'll be fine. I'm gonna let these guys take care of you, but I'm gonna come back for you. We're still family, you and me. We'll always be family. Nothing's gonna change that."

It was difficult, but Steve managed to stay silent, to hold back all the things he wanted to say in order to allow the father and son to have their moment. Jefferson's time ran out. The two men exchanged a terse, uncomfortable farewell before the call came to an end. When he hung up the phone, Steve allowed himself to feel relieved as he kissed Miles a hundred times before calling Phil with the good news.

It was finally over.


	5. Date Night

It was only after Miles had been with them for four and a half months that Phil started to notice a problem, mainly the slow death of their romantic lives. The first month had been Phil's fault, something that he openly admitted to, because he had been too frustrated by the situation to really try to put any effort into things. Yet even after they had worked through their issues, even after the stress of the adoption, intimacy had still remained rather illusive.

Phil did his best not to fret too much over the situation, because as far as he was concerned it wasn't any of their faults. Steve may have been a super soldier with enhanced stamina and above average energy, but he was still young and easily flustered by change and the task of taking care of a baby around the clock was likely mentally exhausting in ways he had never experienced. Phil, on the other hand, may have been an agent trained to handle just about anything, but was ultimately short on youthful energy a fact that he never felt than when he was with Miles. (No matter how many times Steve tried to convince him otherwise, he still felt his age quite keenly whenever he had to chase down a toddler to change a dirty diaper.) It was only natural for both of them to want nothing more than sleep at the end of a long day.

That night, however, was a different story. Phil put the last dish away just as Steve stepped out of their bedroom. "Laundry's finished," he announced proudly.

"Dishes are done," Phil returned.

"Miles is asleep."

"Leftovers put away."

A thoughtful frown creased Steve's brow as he took a moment to consider the situation. "Did we really get done with everything before nine?"

"I guess so."

Their eyes locked from across the room and in that moment Phil knew that they were thinking the exact same thing. The two sprinted towards the bedroom, Steve rummaging through the drawers for their protection just as Phil slammed the door closed and made sure to keep it shut tight. Steve was pressed against him before he could even fully turn around, their lips smashing together with a sort of desperation they hadn't felt since the early days of their relationship.

"I can't believe we've gone so long without this," Steve muttered against him. It was a wonder his words had come out so clearly considering that his lips had hardly left Phil's mouth in order to speak.

"We were tired," Phil reasoned and if he had more breath he probably would have laughed. In the last few months the most romantic thing either of them could muster was ordering take out after a long day, and even then such a gesture would only be rewarded with a light kiss and a fond thanks. "How deep asleep do you think he is?"

"I don't know, but we should go fast." Steve wrapped one arm snuggly around his waist and all but carried Phil across the room and onto the bed. 

The two of them fell onto the mattress with a heavy bounce, Steve continuing to kiss him until his mouth almost felt crushed and Phil practically tearing into Steve's scalp as he ran his fingers through his hair. When Steve pulled away to remove his snug blue t-shirt, Phil was quick to undo the buttons of his own shirt before yanking off the undershirt. 

They were both scrambling to remove the other's belt when it happened. The cry was soft at first, but then gradually grew louder with a slight crackle of static to remind them of the little blue and white radio sitting on the nightstand beside the alarm clock. 

Phil's groan was long and heavy as his whole body went slack against the mattress. Above him Steve let out a sad little sigh as he visibly (and heavily) slumped his shoulders and rested his weight on his haunches. "That kid has the worst timing," Phil grumbled as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

"I'll take care of it," Steve assured him. He leaned forward in order to give Phil's already swollen lips a kiss that included a sharp nip and a flicker of tongue. "Wait up for me."

Phil nodded eagerly as Steve crawled off of the bed and walked briskly towards the door. He didn't know how long it took Steve to take care of Miles since Phil had fallen asleep well before he could return.

\---

"Hey Daddy."

Phil stiffened with a jolt that was a powerful mixture of shock and excitement at the sound of Steve Roger's voice coming from the other end of his desk. He lifted his head and found the fire burning in his belly quickly snuffed out when he saw that Steve was pushing a stroller in front of him as he entered the office. Phil chuckled in order to hide his frustrated disappointment. "You know, I don't think it's such a great idea for _you_ to call me that in this context."

For a moment Steve stared blankly in confusion, but a light pink soon began to color his cheeks as understanding dawn on him. "Oh, well, I was just testing it out," he explained as he parked the stroller in the corner of the room before lifting Miles out of the cushioned inside. Steve pushed the door shut before going to rest his hip against the far corner of Phil's desk with Miles perched comfortably against him and Phil had to marvel at how naturally the two always looked together. "I thought you might want to try something a bit more..."

Steve didn't finish his sentence, but Phil could already gather that he was referring to Stark's little comment about their chosen names. "I know I said I wasn't fond of the name before, but I'm fine with being 'Uncle Phil' now," he assured him. "Besides, I think it's simpler this way. With you and Jefferson competing over the title of 'dad,' there's no need to add me being called 'daddy' to the mix. It's less complicated."

Steve gave a resigned sort of shrug as he adjusted himself against the wood of the desk. "I guess you're right," he said distantly and Phil knew right away that there was something else bothering him. "Listen Phil, I wanted to talk to you about something. About... about last night..."

If Phil were the sort to blush, his cheeks would have been burning at that moment. Instead, he gave a wry smile and ducked his head a bit. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I suppose it's one of the draw backs of dating an old man."

"Phil, you're not old," Steve said automatically as he always did, and as always it didn't make Phil feel any better. "And... well, that's not really what I'm getting at."

"Is this really a conversation you want to have here?" Phil asked with a vague sort of gesture towards the room and their present company. Phil was a private man, but he was comfortable with the idea of discussing their relationship in public. Steve, however, was not, too much of his forties insecurities still lurking in him to be open and forward about such things. "Right now?"

Steve barely flinched at the question, only squared his jaw in determination. It was a clear sign that he had already considered all the aspects and was determined to go onward. "Well, it's a conversation that we don't seem able to have at home whether _he's_ awake or not," Steve said with a nod towards Miles. It was only then that Phil noticed that the baby was currently chewing on a surprisingly large apple, his little teeth making slow, but steady work of the fruit. Steve was good with the foods he gave Miles, but there were times that Phil wondered if he was perhaps feeding him a bit too often.

"You're right," Phil relented. "And frankly I think that's part of the problem. He's _always_ around. How long has it been since you've had a full day away from him?"

He watched as Steve stiffened either with realization or embarrassment, it was difficult to tell. "Not since Brazil."

"That was a long time ago and not exactly a restful experience either. I think we, and by 'we' I mostly mean _you_ , need a break."

A deep frown settled on Steve's features, one that looked shocked and offended by the very idea. "What are you suggesting? We just leave him?"

Phil chuckled in a way that he hoped was comforting as he stood in order to walk around the desk and look Steve in the eye. Even slouching, Steve was taller than him, but at least Phil didn't have to crane his neck upward to meet his gaze. "I'm not saying we leave him in a basket on the side of the road. Just that we let someone else take over baby duties for a bit while we take some time to ourselves." Steve's frown softened as he turned the idea over in his head. "Come on, when was the last time you listened to a song that wasn't a musical version of 'Chicka Chicka Boom Boom' or went somewhere that doesn't have the word 'kids' or 'baby' in front of it?"

Steve's shoulders slumped in defeat, making it easy for Phil to lift Miles out of his protective hold and balance him on his own hip. The apple Miles had been feeding on was nearly down to its core and Phil gave his back a proud pat at the sight. "I guess a night away won't be so bad," Steve shrugged. "But who’s going to look after him?"

"Don't worry. I'll handle it."

\---

A pair of trained assassins may not have been the most conventional babysitters in the world, but Clint and Natasha were convenient, available, and familiar. Neither of them had any first had experience with babies in general, or Miles in particular, but Coulson had some favors to call in with the two so they had no real say in the matter. "Your job will be simple enough: get him to bed by seven and keep him safe through the night, that's all," Coulson explained evenly as he looked from Clint's slightly insulted frown to Natasha's bitter scowl. "He usually sleeps through the night, but if he wakes up, just sit with him for a bit and he'll go back to bed. We'll be home by morning. You should be able to handle him for that long."

"I just want to say," Steve groused from over his shoulder, "that I completely object to this idea."

"So do I," Natasha huffed. She was dressed in a pair of dark fitted jeans and a t-shirt that clung to her middle, but slumped off of one shoulder. It was the closest he'd ever seen to Natasha dressing "comfortably" and with the pouting expression twisting her face, she suddenly looked like a sulking teenager. "This is a complete waste of my talents, Coulson. Can't you just have Jarvis watch the kid?"

Coulson pinned her with a dull frown, one that said she clearly should have known better, because while Steve for the most part had come to terms with technology, he drew a firm line in the sand in regards to having a living computer monitor their every move. Security cameras had been installed in Miles's nursery as a safety measure and in the case of an absolute emergency, Jarvis was set to alert them of danger, but theirs was one of the few sleeping quarters in which his access was severely limited.

"Can't we just put him to bed now?" Clint asked as he glanced down at his wristwatch. He was also wearing jeans and a t-shirt and looked ready to flop down in front of the couch and turn on the TV at the drop of a hat. "It's practically seven already."

"We try to keep him on a schedule," Steve countered as he bounced Miles affectionately in his arms. Miles was already dressed for bed in his Mets footie pajamas, freshly changed, and fed, and really if Clint wanted to it would be easy to just drop Miles off in his crib and turn out the lights fifteen minutes early, but Steve wasn't good with flexibility when it came to Miles's schedule.

Natasha rolled her eyes again. The gesture was so aggressive that for a moment Coulson was worried she'd tear a retina. "Fine, Mr. Mom, just hand him over here so you two dorks can go paint the town red at Pottery Barn or whatever it is boring couples do for fun."

Steve wasn't listening anymore. He was too focused on peppering Miles with kisses while whispering promises that he would return into his little ears. Miles responded with a mumbled "dada" before being handed off to Phil. 

Phil was more accustomed to leaving Miles for long stretches of time than Steve was, but when it was his turn to say goodbye, even he found himself feeling a bit reluctant to let go. Phil kissed his temple. "Make sure they don't wreck the apartment," Phil told him before handing Miles off to Clint.

\---

It didn't take long for Natasha to start rummaging through the apartment. In fact, less than a minute had passed between Coulson and Steve's departure and the moment she had went into their bedroom in search of anything remotely interesting. Natasha hadn't been joking when she'd told Coulson that this babysitting thing was a waste of her talents and finding some dirt to use against them the next time Coulson decided to stick her with the kid was the only option Natasha saw right now.

Unfortunately for her, Natasha's thorough search of their bedroom provided nothing even remotely interesting, which meant either the two were just as boring of a couple as she had suspected or Coulson had predicted Natasha to do this sort of thing and took the proper precautions. Either option was likely, but ultimately Natasha was glad that she knew how not to leave a trail, meaning that no matter what no one would ever be able to prove that she had ever even set foot in their room.

By the time everything had been put back in place, Natasha found herself raiding the kitchen while Clint lounged on the couch watching a plasma screen that was likely rarely ever used. Miles was on the floor, standing by the sliding glass window and pointing one sad little finger at the world outside the glass. The sight made Natasha angry, so she chose to ignore it. Instead she opened and closed a few cabinets before yanking open the refrigerator, her frown growing deeper as she took in the contents in front of her.

"Oh my God," she groused as she slammed the heavy white double doors shut. "Everything in here is naturally grown, organic crap!"

"And?" Clint responded distantly as the screen flipped over to a puppet show. "I don't know why kids are so into Elmo now," Clint mused to himself. "Grover's the real talent here."

"And there's not a drop of chocolate in the house," Natasha went on. She stepped out of the kitchen and towards the living area so she could rest her elbows on the back of the sofa in order to watch Clint's lack of a reaction carefully. "No ice cream, no potato chips, no cereal with ingredients too complicated to comprehend let alone pronounce... Clint, even the _yogurt_ is plain! Do you know what that means?"

Clint said nothing, but he did peel his eyes away from the television long enough to give Natasha a look that told her to go ahead with whatever it was she was getting at. 

"It means that that kid," Natasha said pointing at Miles and directly acknowledging his existence for the first time since Steve and Coulson had left, "probably hasn't had a bite of junk food in _months_."

"Dear God. Call social services."

"We have to do something about this."

"Should I assemble the rest of the Avengers?"

"I'm serious," she huffed as she gave Clint's shoulder a light jab. "Go to your apartment and gather all your junk. We're going to give this kid a treat."

Now Clint was paying attention, because he could tell from the tone of Natasha's voice that she was, ironically enough, being completely serious. "Tash, come on. We're not about to stuff a toddler with sweets just because you're upset about having to play sitter for one night. Besides, he should have been in bed," Clint paused in order to glance down at his watch "thirty minutes ago. Isn't that enough to satisfy your unreasonable outrage?"

"No," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, this isn't just about me being pissed at Coulson. This is about giving a poor little kid something good. This is his first night off from those two, right? Let's help him make the most of it instead of..." Her gaze shifted back towards Miles who had managed to pull himself away from the window, but looked no less distressed about his perceived abandonment. The sight of those dark brown eyes brimming with tears as tiny lips trembled miserably was hard enough to swallow, but it was made all the more heart wrench by the way Miles clutched his Hulk plush close to his side and toddled around in his footy pajamas.

Clint let out a long low groan as he clicked off the television and pushed himself off of the couch. "I think I have a pint of rocky road in my freezer."

\---

It didn't take much to show Steve a good time. His taste hadn't changed a bit over the years and he was still just a simple kid who took pleasures in the little thing. Heading to a dingy little sports bar to grab a bite and watch the game was heaven to him and that night Phil was more than happy to comply. They ordered a pizza and some beers, because even if Steve couldn't drink, he still enjoyed the way a cool glass of beer made him feel normal. They sat down at a table next to a screen that was showing the Mets game and made up for the lack of sound with their own running commentary. 

It always amazed Phil how easily Steve could blend into a crowd. With his good looks, muscular build, and six two stature he should have stuck out like a sore thumb, but he behaved too naturally and too meekly in a crowd to draw a lot of attention to himself and Phil supposed it was just another hold over from his old life.

They had just put in an order for another pie (because Steve had eaten six slices and was still feeling a bit empty) and another round of drinks when Phil started to notice that Steve was getting twitchy. He glanced at the clock behind the bar more often than he glanced at the screen and the relaxed posture from when they entered was slowly starting to turn ridged. 

Phil reached for his hand beneath the grimy table and gave it a squeeze, drawing Steve's attention towards him. "You okay?"

Steve looked as if he wanted to lie and say that he was fine, but he decided to go with honesty instead as he pinned Phil with an apologetic smile. "It's getting kinda late, isn't it? I mean, we've been out long enough right? We don't have to stay out all night."

He gave him a gentle frown. "It's only eight thirty and I promised you a night out, and that's exactly what you're getting."

"I think we should at least check in on them," Steve went on as he gave the clock another glance as if to confirm the time. "Something might have happened."

"Is there anything that could have potentially occurred in the past two hours that a pair of S.H.I.E.L.D. trained Avengers couldn't handle?" Phil countered.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. trained, but not baby trained," he shot back and Phil knew right away that Steve was not about to drop the subject anytime soon.

With a weary smile, Phil offered Steve's hand another quick squeeze before standing. "I'll call," he relented. The two words were just enough to bring a small smile to Steve's face and Phil instantly forgave him for being such a worrier. "Stay here and wait for our pizza."

Phil grabbed his phone and stepped outside where the night air was sharp and filled with a bit less chatter. He dialed Clint's number, pressed the phone to his ear, and waited. He picked up on the fourth ring with an irritated groan. "Agent Barton, what's the status?"

"Everything's great," Clint assured him. The sound of a simple melody could be heard in the background, along with the familiar squeak of Miles's voice. "We popped in a DVD and the kid's watching that so..."

"That's not exactly what I wanted to hear," Phil chided. Steve wouldn't be happy to hear this. "He should have been in bed over an hour ago."

"Yeah, well, we got a bit side tracked," he explained and Phil could practically hear the shrug from over the phone.

"Then get back on track. Remember: Steve and I won't be back until tomorrow. Keeping Miles up late tonight not seem like a big deal now, but trust me, if he doesn't get a full night's rest he will be cranky and it will not be fun come morning."

"Don't worry. We'll handle it. Just... enjoy your night out." 

The call ended and Phil did his best not to dwell on what sounded like plastic blocks being thrown against a wall in the background. He also tried not to think too hard about the way Clint had lied to him or even that he hadn't heard Natasha's voice once during the brief call. He did his best not to think of any of those things, because his gut was still telling him that he could trust Clint and Natasha to do a good job, even if they weren't following their instructions to the letter. Strict obedience wasn't their style, but positive results was and ultimately that was what mattered.

He returned to the bar and their table. Their glasses had been refilled and a fresh pie was hot and ready for them, yet it was Steve's anxious gaze that struck him first. Phil gave him a reassuring smile as he sat down across from him. "Everything's fine," he assured. "Miles is being a bit fussy, but they're holding down the fort. We have nothing to worry about."

Steve nodded even as his eyes sank towards the gritty floors beneath them. "I wish I could just accept that and relax, but I can't. I think being here is making me feel a bit tense." He bit his lip and lifted his gaze towards Phil. "Do you think we could..."

"We're not going home," Phil cut in forcefully. "Steve, I know it's hard and you feel guilty having fun away from Miles, but trust me: it's okay. This is just something that you're going to have to get used to and I promise that it will get easier over time."

He watched as Steve face flushed in a way that told Phil quite clearly that he had missed the mark. "Actually, I was going to ask if we could take our food to go and head over to our hotel room."

Phil turned red for a moment, but it was just a moment. "I'll get the check."

\---

After finishing off half a pint of what they only later realized was coffee ice cream, a bag of gummy bears, and two whole candy bars, Miles had gone from a mild mannered toddler to a sugar fueled baby bomb that seemed to be erupting every ten seconds. He threw his blocks across the apartment, swung his Hulk doll by its leg, and marched up and down the living room squeaking out a tune that was headache inducing to say the least. They had found the DVD and shoved it into the player in the hopes of it helping to get Miles focused and quiet, but instead he grabbed the remote and cranked the volume to full blast and began shrieking with delight at the sight of each colorful Muppet. 

Eventually Natasha unplugged the television and Clint attempted to wear the boy out with the baby exercises that Steve had briefed him on, but after an hour Clint was belly down on the floor, while Miles continued to chatter nonsense as he did baby head tumbles around the apartment.

"Oh my God, Natasha, get this kid to bed!" Clint groaned, his words partially muffled by the carpet that he refused to peel himself off of. "It's almost one in the morning!"

"I am trying," Natasha grumbled as she continued to slam the cupboards in frustration, "but I can't find any Nyquil!"

"We are not drugging Captain America's kid!" Clint shouted, rolling his head to the side in order to ensure that he was heard. "It's bad enough that we sent him on an epic sugar rush."

He shuddered to think what sort of torture awaited the two when Cap and Coulson got back. It was hard to imagine who would freak out more when they returned to find their living quarters a mess and their son suffering from a major sugar crash.

Natasha huffed as she reluctantly left the kitchen and ran a frustrated hand through her already frizzing hair. She looked as aggravated as he felt and for a moment Clint almost felt sorry for her. "Hey, how was I supposed to know that babies couldn't handle sugar?"

"Common sense?" He let out a loud "oof!" as Miles climbed onto his back and began smacking his head with the Thor action figure that Clint had tried to bribe him with just hours ago. Another blow was delivered, this time to his shoulder, and Clint was suddenly convinced that this was all the result of some sort of Loki induced magic. It was the only way such a sweet child could be turned into an out of control monster. "Maybe we could just dump him on Bruce and see how it goes from there."

"No way," Natasha sighed as he lifted the baby off of Clint's back. "We don't want to potentially add the Hulk to this mess."

Miles scampered away and Clint took the opportunity to roll off of his stomach and onto his back. "Tony then?"

"Out of town."

"Thor?"

"Out in space."

Clint groaned as scrubbed at his face as he was suddenly reminded just how they had gotten stuck babysitting in the first place. "Well... I dunno," he shrugged as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Plug the TV back in and put on another DVD."

Natasha was about to do just that, but instead she stiffened when something caught her attention. "Did it just get a lot quieter in here?"

He was on his feet before the full weight of the words or the stillness of the apartment could properly sink in. Everything was still a mess, pillows and blankets scattered the floors, furniture was pushed aside, and empty wrappers were thrown here and there, but Miles was nowhere to be seen.

Just as suddenly as the panic began to grip them a sharp rap was heard on the window. Clint's body tense, as did Natasha's, and the two assassins found themselves reaching for the weapons they didn't have as they turned to face the large sliding glass window that was now slightly ajar. On the other side, standing on the balcony was a man dressed from head to toe in a red and blue jump suit. He was average height with a lean build and there were spider webs decorating the red patches of his suit. None of that really caught their attention, because Clint and Natasha were too focused on the red faced baby wailing in his arms.

"Hey there," the man managed to say through the fabric of his mask. "Did either of you lose a baby? 'Cause this little guy kinda fell out your window."

"Oh my God we nearly killed Cap's kid!" Natasha gasped in a tone that was more embarrassed than horrified. She grabbed Miles out of the costumed man's arms, offering him a look that was part glare, part sheepish, and part thankful.

Clint, for his part, was too busy panicking over just how they could hack into Jarvis's well protected system and potentially erase any evidence of this incident (which likely wouldn't have happened in the first place if Cap hadn't restricted the computer's access to the suite but that was beside the point) to notice that the suited man was still standing on the terrace. It took him a moment, but Clint eventually realized that he was waiting to be acknowledged before going on his way. "Um, thanks... uh, kid?"

"Spider-Man," he corrected and Clint could tell from the way the fabric was folding on his mask that he was frowning. Clint vaguely recalled Coulson mentioning a Spider-Man in the past and decided then that he would have to look up his files in the near future.

Natasha scoffed. "Really?"

Spider-Man's frown seemed to deepen as his gaze shifted towards Natasha in an almost challenging manner and Clint knew right away that the man behind that mask was most likely a teenager. "Do you lurk around the Avengers Tower often, Spider-Man?"

"Not really. Only when there are toddlers falling out the windows."

Clint shrugged. "Fair enough." He turned to look at Miles. His face was still bright red and wet with tears, but his head had lulled as his wailing sobs faded into exhausted sniffles. This certainly wasn't a method of tiring the kid out that either was willing to use again, but at least the chocolate fueled energy bloom had passed. "Okay Miles, say goodnight."

Spider-Man stiffened at the name and Clint had a feeling that his real eyes were nearly as wide as the ones sewn into his mask. "Wait, did you just say that kid's name was Miles?" He leaned in a bit closer towards the toddler and Natasha instantly tightened her grip and took a half step back. "'Miles' as in 'Miles Morales'?"

Natasha frowned and Clint once again found himself reaching for a weapon that he didn't have. "Yeah," he said in a pointed yet even tone. "What about it?"

Spider-Man was still as he considered Miles for another moment of heavy silence before finally shaking his head and breaking whatever trance had come over him. "Uh, nothing. It's nothing." He jumped up and perched himself on the balcony's railing. A thick thread of webbing shot out of his wrist and grew taught as it caught on something far away. "You guys have a goodnight and, uh, maybe try locking your windows." He leapt up and over the railing, disappearing into the night.

Clint closed the sliding glass door, locked it, and shut the blinds before turning back to Natasha who looked just as confused and tense as he felt. "Well that was weird. Do you think we should tell Coulson about that?"

He frowned, realizing right away that it would be difficult to tell Coulson or Steve about Spider-Man without including the fact that Miles had nearly turned himself into street pizza while the two were distracted. Still, there was something about the way Spider-Man had looked at Miles that couldn't be pushed aside. His stare hadn't felt malicious, but it was far too intense for Clint's liking. "I dunno, but I think we need to get this apartment locked down and that kid in bed."

"Definitely."

\---

Phil chuckled as he rubbed at the back of his neck. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was already one thirty and suddenly he couldn't remember the last time that he had stayed up this late doing something other than paperwork. 

He didn't make a sound when Steve rolled over towards the edge of the bed and grabbed at the remote that had fallen to the floor during the course of the night. The stillness of the room was broken as the flat screen flicked on and Steve flipped through channels until he found a station showing highlights from the game they had lost track of hours ago. For a moment Phil thought this was his signal that it would be okay to turn in for the night and instantly began rearranging the pillows. Yet the television was muted just as soon as he settled back against the mattress and Steve was pinning him with an apologetic look. "Sorry, I just wanted to catch the score."

"It's okay," Phil assured him. His eyes were already closing as he reached over to give Steve's arm a tender pat. "I don't mind."

The room was silent for a moment and even with his eyes shut Phil could tell that Steve was smiling down at him. "I had fun tonight."

Phil smiled. "I'm glad."

The mattress creaked slightly as Steve shifted above him and soon their chests were pressed together as Steve leaned in for a quick kiss. "I'm glad you thought of this. I mean, I have to admit it, I kinda miss Miles, but it's nice to be just a couple again."

Phil nodded as he stared up at Steve and saw that he was still grinning tenderly down at him. "It was nice," he agreed as he wrapped his arms around Steve's broad back. "But being a family is nice too."

Steve frowned at that and Phil had to admit that that wasn't the reaction he had expected. "We were already a family, you and me. Miles... he's just another part of it." He kissed Phil's chin and then rolled off and onto the empty side of the mattress. "But I'm glad to hear you say that. I'm happy you're okay with this."

"Yeah. I'm okay," Phil assured him and it probably wasn't the complete truth, because he was more than okay. It still took him by surprise at times, but Phil actually found that he loved being a father. He loved Miles and he loved his family and not just because it made Steve happy, but because simple things like showing Miles some of his old collectables or taking him into the city warmed and thrilled him in ways that he couldn't quite describe. It was as if the whole world was suddenly fresh and new again, just as it had been with Steve, but only more pure and simple. "I just hope we'll be able to get a few more moments to ourselves in the future."

"Hopefully," Steve agreed. "I mean, it'll probably get harder when we have the next one, but..."

"Wait, what?" Phil cut in sharply. A sudden spike of energy hit him as he sat up and stared down at Steve. "The next one? Are you talking about another baby?"

He watched as Steve's mouth opened and closed a few times as he seemed to scramble for something to say. Apparently Steve had been convinced that the two were on the same page about the matter and Phil couldn't have been more lost. "Well, yeah," he said with an awkward sort of shrug. "Not right away, but... down the road I guess."

Phil laughed in spite of himself at the sight of Steve's sheepish expression. "Another baby. Are you serious? How many kids were you planning to have?"

Again Steve shrugged, but at least this time he had the sense to sit upright before doing so. "A couple. Three or four, maybe. Look, I was an only child, Phil, and I hated it. It was lonely! I don't want that for Miles. It would be nice for him to have a few brothers or sisters to play with."

It sounded reasonable, but Steve had a way of making all the naive things he said sound reasonable. Clearly the all the awkwardness and turmoil they had gone through with each other and the team just to get Miles hadn't left much an impact on Steve Roger and his idea of the America Dream. "It's a sweet thought Steve, but I don't think it's something we can deal with right now. After all, we're not even married yet and you're-"

"Yet?" Steve cut in. He smirked and Phil suddenly felt his own face flush a bit at the sight. "Are we engaged? Was there a proposal that I didn't know about?"

"You're starting to sound like Tony," Phil chided, but it did nothing to erase the smug air currently surrounding Steve. "Fine, maybe I'm jumping the gun a bit, but I assumed we were headed in that direction. We're living together _and_ raising a baby."

"Yeah, I guess we're going a bit out of order, aren't we?"

"Clearly your wholesome image is slipping," he grinned. Steve bowed his head and blushed as Phil glanced over his shoulder and looked at the clock. It was already two and he had a feeling that neither would be getting any sleep any time soon. "Well, I guess we have some things to talk about."

\---

The phone must have been ringing for a good five minutes before Natasha opened her eyes and acknowledged it. She could tell by the golden yellow rays of sunlight streaming in from the curtain that it was early morning, but her mind was still sluggish and didn't register right away that the reason she was currently sprawled out on the floor was because she was in Coulson's apartment. Her head turned to the right and her eyes were met with the sight of the legs of a coffee table. She turned left and found the base of a beige sofa in front of her. Clint was nowhere in sight, but the apartment was still and quiet (save for the phone's insistent ringing) which meant that Miles was still asleep. 

With a soft groan she pushed herself off of the floor and walked over to the phone mounted on the wall next to the refrigerator. She picked up on what had to be the hundredth ring without looking at the display and grunted into the receiver.

" _Good morning Agent Romanov_ ," Jarvis's polite voice greeted her ears. " _The time is now eight forty-five and-_ "

"Jarvis, what the hell?" Natasha groused. "I was sleeping."

" _Forgive me madam, but you did program me to call the moment Captain Rogers and Agent Coulson approached the building._ "

Natasha paled as she fully took stock of the situation. Food and candy wrappers were still scattered across most of the kitchen, Miles's toys were strewn about the living room, the doors and windows had been locked, but the curtains looked as if a cat had tangled itself in them. "Well, shit," she breathed. "Where are they now Jarvis?"

" _Approaching the elevator as we speak, madam_ ," he informed her. " _You and Agent Barton have approximately five minutes before they arrive on this floor. I strongly suggest you use the time wisely._ "

Natasha hung up the phone without another word as she all but ran into Miles's room. She found Clint asleep on the floor, having collapsed only inches away from the rocking chair in the corner of the room. Glancing towards the crib confirmed that Miles was indeed still asleep, but she could tell from the smell in the air that he needed to be changed.

"Clint, get up, it's go time," she ordered as she gave his side a firm nudge with the tip of her foot. Clint grunted, shifting against the bright alphabet printed carpet he was currently sprawled across and continued to sleep. Natasha rolled her eyes as she reached into the crib and scooped up Miles. "Come on Clint. Cap and Coulson will be here in five minutes! We gotta hustle."

Clint's eyes snapped open at that. He practically jumped to his feet and turned wide eyed towards Natasha. "Shit. Did you say five minutes?"

"Probably four now," she said, fighting against the urge to gag as she handed Miles over to Clint. "You take care of the kid, I'll clean the kitchen, and we'll both handle the living room."

By the time the front door opened, Natasha and Clint had managed to reassemble most of the apartment into a reasonable state of disarray. The evidence of last night's sugar bloom had gone, quite literally, out the window while the majority of Miles's toys were stowed away inside of bins in his room. They were just finishing moving some of the furniture that had been rearranged last night when Miles, freshly changed and out of his pajamas, went toddling towards the door.

Steve stepped in and Miles had already attached himself to his leg before he could even look down. "Hey little buddy," he cooed as he bent down to scoop Miles up. The toddler squealed with delight as Steve kissed the top of his head. "Did you miss us?"

Miles proceeded to babble and squeal nonsense, chanting "Dada" over and over with an "Uncle" or two thrown in for good measure. Coulson didn't seem to mind, however, as he placed a quick kiss to Miles's cheek before walking further into the apartment. "Everything seems relatively intact," he said after glancing around room. "Good work agents."

"I hope he didn't give you too much trouble," Steve said as he carried Miles in one arm and their overnight bag in the other. "I mean, this was our first night away and all..."

"Are you kidding me? It was no trouble at all," Clint said with a too casual shrug.

"Yeah, no problems at all," Natasha went on as she did her best to ease over to the front door. "Come on, it's just one kid."

"And we're two trained agents."

"We've been on dozens of missions."

" _Hundreds_."

"Watching one kid?"

" _Super_ simple."

They had over sold it. Coulson knew it, Steve knew it, and from the glance the two shared, it was clear that neither Clint nor Natasha would be getting off easily. "Well that's great to hear, because we'll need another sitter for next week," Coulson smiled.

"Yeah, Phil and I will be going in for an assignment," Steve put in. "Month long mission in Latveria. Do you two think you'd be up for another round of super simple babysitting?"

Their answer was a flat, shared "No" followed by a twin scramble for the door that left both Coulson and Steve laughing behind their backs.


	6. The Beach

Steve frowned as he inspected the backseat of the rental car once more. It was a gray midsized sedan, a year old model that they had picked up from the rental service the day before and cleaned out thoroughly that same evening. The breaks and lights had all been tested and the trunk had already been packed. The only thing left to do was slide in the car seat that had been sitting up in their apartment for a few months, having gone completely unused until now.

He studied the plastic latches and tethers that had already been installed inside the car and then looked to the leaflet that Phil had handed him. "I still don't get it," Steve said as he turned the glossy paper over in his hands. "Why does it have to go in backwards? Wouldn't it make more sense if it were facing the front?"

"Not at this age no," Phil assured him as he gently nudged Steve aside in order to fit the seat into the car. Its base was light gray while the cushions were a soft blue with little green animals printed across it. "Trust me Steve, rear facing seating is the safest option for Miles. It'll offer the most support to his neck, head, and spine and provide the most protection in the event of a crash."

Steve felt himself pale at the very idea of the car crashing with Miles in it. Miles was currently standing next to him, his little hand held securely in Steve's as he looked around the Tower's parking garage, but Steve suddenly felt that was too far away as he bent down to scoop him up. "Well, shouldn't we be installing one of these in your car, too?"

Phil was already mostly inside the car at that point, only his legs sticking out with his face obscured by the row of front seats, yet Steve saw the way he stiffened in what seemed like panic at the question. "Um, well, I don't know about that."

Miles turned in his arms, reaching out in order to point at all the cars in the garage and call out their colors. Steve kissed his cheek and gave his back a fond pat. "Why not?"

"Well..."

"Phil, he's going to have to ride in that car eventually. We can't keep getting rentals every time we want to go on a trip."

"I'm aware of that," he assured him as he slid out of the car just far enough for Steve to hand Miles to him. He placed the toddler carefully in Phil's arms, watching with rapt interest as Phil placed Miles gently into the waiting chair. "And I'm sure that Stark wouldn't be too opposed to us borrowing one of his cars from time to time."

"Phil!"

"Sorry Agent, but my wheels are off limits." Steve turned around to see Tony and Pepper approaching them from beyond a row of cars. He smirked at the sight of the blue tinted sunglasses resting on the bridge of Stark's nose, despite the fact that there was no sunlight to be found within the underground parking structure. "Besides, if I start letting you play with my cars then what's to stop Clint and Natasha from taking joyrides?"

"Your security system?" Coulson countered.

Tony's frown was slight, but it was still apparent, as was the soft chuckle from Pepper. "Morning Ms Potts, Tony," Steve greeted. "Have you two come to join us for our little road trip?"

"Eh, pass," Tony shrugged.

Pepper smiled in a way that only a person who had made a career out of putting up with Tony Stark could. "What Tony means to say is that we have an important business matter to attend to downtown, but you three go ahead and have fun. And be sure to take plenty of pictures."

"Oh we will," Steve beamed as he glanced over his shoulder in order to look at Miles, comfortably strapped into his car seat, before turning back to face Pepper and Tony. "It's really exciting. Miles's first trip to the beach."

"I'm sure he's been to the beach before," Tony countered. "He's practically two."

Steve gave Tony a very pointed frown at that. "It's his _first trip_ to the beach."

"As a part of our family," Phil put in as he gently closed the rear door behind them. "Which reminds me, Miles will actually be turning two years old next month. Can we count on the two of you joining us for some cake?"

"Sure, what are you planning to do? Renting out FAO Schwarz? Taking over Central Park? Closing down the Bronx Zoo?"

"Nothing that extravagant, Tony," Steve assured him. "We're just going to cut a cake and open some presents at home."

Even behind the tinted lenses of his sunglasses, Steve could still see Tony roll his eyes at what he likely perceived as an utterly boring idea, but Pepper grabbed his arm in a way that made him school his looks. "That sounds sweet. We'd love to join you."

"You know, I could always _call_ FAO Schwarz for you," Tony insisted. "Just one phone call."

"Miles still isn't big on crowds or loud noises," Phil clarified. "We think it'll be best to just keep it small."

"We understand," Pepper told him.

"Yeah, you want to be boring parents. That's fine. Different techniques that's all."

"I'm sure it'll be a lot of fun," she said, her smile growing more strained with each passing moment. "It's just a shame we won't be able to get word to Thor about it."

A thoughtful silence fell over the garage at that. Thor had been off world for a while now and as far as the others knew, was not likely to come back any time soon. Thor, after all, was still the prince of Asgard and had his own duties to attend to, but Steve was starting to grow a bit frustrated by his friend's absence. Thor was the only Avenger left who had not seen Miles and Steve was eager for the two to meet. Yet there was no direct way to communicate with Asgard and all anyone could do was sit and wait for Thor's return.

Phil placed a gentle hand at Steve's side, the way he often did when Phil felt that he was dwelling on something he shouldn't, and Steve felt himself relaxing into the touch. "Well, we can always hope."

\---

Coney Island was a fair deal closer and had been left mostly intact during the incident that had left most of Brooklyn demolished, but it was routinely crowded and neither Steve nor Coulson felt ready to take Miles back to his former home. Instead, they made the long drive to Rockaway Beach. The traffic was light that day, the toll lanes moving surprisingly fast, and Miles even spent most of the drive fast asleep (although that didn't stop Steve from twisting around to check on him every ten seconds).

They parked the car near a meter and fed it enough change to give them at least an hour without having to worry about returning to refill. They unloaded the car quickly and managed to find a decent spot near the swimming area to unroll their beach towels and set up the umbrella. The waves were steady yet gentle as a pleasant breeze glided over the warm sand. A few clouds speckled the sky, but they were thin and white and gave no threat of rain. It was the perfect day for a beach outing.

"Can I just say," Phil began as he grabbed two bottles of water from the cooler, "how strange it is that you're actually wearing a t-shirt at the beach."

Steve paused in his task of rubbing as much children's sun block into Miles's skin as he could in order to shoot Phil a playful frown. "You're wearing a t-shirt too," he countered as he nodded towards Phil's still clothed upper body.

"First of all, this is an a-shirt, not a t-shirt," Phil said, indicating his bare shoulders. He sat down across from Steve and Miles on the beach towel, placing the water bottles between them before reaching over to test that the umbrella was firm and sturdy. "Second, I'm not a twenty-seven year old super solider. I'm allowed to be embarrassed of my body."

Steve laughed as he globed a bit more sunscreen on Miles's round stomach, a gesture that caused Miles to both giggle and push his hands away. "It's not about being embarrassed," he insisted. "I have very pale, sensitive skin. If I don't cover up as much of my body as possible, I'll be peeling pounds of skin for weeks!"

"That's a pleasant image."

"And why should you be ashamed of your body? You have a great body!"

Phil didn't blush, but he did duck his head a bit as a small smile curled his lips. "You only say that because you love me."

Steve smiled and reached a lotion coated hand towards Phil's knee. He would have kissed him, but they were still very much in public. "I do love you, but even from an objective stand point, you have a great body." 

"For my age?"

The hand on Phil's knee lifted in order to give his shoulder a playful swat. "How many times do I have to tell you Phil, you're not _old_!"

As usual, Phil didn't push the issue, but he didn't seem to accept Steve's comment either as he instead focused his attention on fishing out objects that they had packed in their beach bag and laying them across the towels. "So is your irrational fear of sunburns the reason you're coating our son with goopy white lotion? I don't think his skin can absorb all of that before the sand clings to it."

Steve stilled the hand that was currently massaging sun block into Miles's little leg and smiled sheepishly. "I know I'm going a bit overboard, but I read this article about skin cancer last night..."

"I told you before to stop Googling things before bed."

"How could I not? We were going to the beach with a baby for the first time." 

Miles stood and walked a few paces towards Phil, who placed a blue and red sun hat on top of his head. He instantly yanked it off in order to inspect the hat himself, but Phil was able to gently pry it out of his hands and put it back on his head. Miles seemed to reluctantly accept the unfamiliar weight on his head as he decided instead to focus his efforts on taking in his surroundings. It was still fairly early and the sands weren't crowded with families and tourists just yet, but Miles still found interest in gazing at the people running in and out of the waters. He stretched out a chubby arm and pointed at the gently crashing waves. "Beesh! Beesh!"

"That's right Miles, we're at the beach!" Phil rewarded him with a fond pat to the stomach and a kiss to the cheek. "You're such a smart boy. Can you say 'sand'? 'Sand'?"

Phil emphasized his question by touching the little golden grains with his fingers and scooping them into his hands. Miles watched with a great deal of interest as he did so, even reaching out to touch the sand to his own finger tips as if to test it out for himself. "Saah?"

"Sand. Very good. Let's play in the sand." He handed Miles a little bucket and shovel and showed him how to build sand into a hill. Miles watched him quietly for a bit, content to just clutch his new toys in his hands, but he soon put them aside in order to grab sand in his eager little fists and toss them on top of the small mound that Phil had been forming. "That's not exactly what I was going for, but okay."

Steve smiled at the two. It was moments like this that he loved the most. Just watching Phil and Miles together filled him with more warmth and joy than he had ever thought possible. They were the times that he would just sit back and think "This is my family" and it would all feel like some sort of dream.

"Here Miles, like this," Steve instructed gently as he used his hands to gently push the sand instead of tossing it. Miles watched him for a moment, then crouched down and began to imitate his actions as best as he could. "There we go. That's better. No more sand in Uncle Phil's hair."

Phil laughed as he brushed a few grains off of himself. "Thanks Cap."

"No problem," he said before turning a bit more serious. "We're fun, aren't we? We're fun parents. This is fun, isn't it?"

"Is this about what Stark said?" Phil asked wearily, a clear sign that he already knew the answer. "You really have to stop letting him get to you."

"But we're not boring right? I mean, we don't have to throw Miles a private party in Yankee Stadium to be fun... Do we? Is a party at home too small? Oh God, do you think Miles might remember and think we don't love him if we don't do something bigger?"

"Steve, I wouldn't exactly take parenting advice from a man whose father's idea of nurturing was to substitute affection for expensive gifts. Besides I doubt Miles is going to develop any deep seeded resentment towards us just because we didn't make his second birthday party the event of the decade."

"I guess you're right," Steve shrugged as he turned his attention back to Miles. By now Miles had gotten pretty good at pushing the sand around and even began using the back of his shovel to flatten the sides. "I suppose I just want too much. I want Miles to have a normal life, but I also want him to have everything we could possibly give him even if it does seem like a bit too much at times."

"Trust me Steve, even if Miles doesn't get a one hundred percent normal life, he's going to turn out just fine because he has two parents who love him very much."

"And a third parent incarcerated in a state prison," he grumbled bitterly.

"Let's not dwell on that detail."

Steve was tempted to say more on the matter, particularly how he wanted Phil to be the one to bring Miles to the prison next week since it was becoming quite obvious that Jefferson hated everything about him, but he let the subject slip away for now. He looked over towards the shoreline that was now clear of children splashing in the shifting waves or kicking at clumps of damp sand. Miles had grown bored of piling dirt and had now moved on to scaling his man made mountain and Steve decided that now would be the best time to test out the water.

"I'm going to take him into the ocean," Steve announced as he grabbed Miles by his waist and brushed some of the sand off of him. "I want to see how he does in the water."

"Okay, but take it slow," Phil advised. "And don't let go of him."

Steve chuckled as he stood, choosing to hold Miles by the hand instead of carrying him. It would make the trip slower, but Miles was growing more independent everyday and was starting to enjoy walking on his own two legs more than being carried by either Phil or Steve. "Let's go to the water Miles. Can you say 'water'?"

"Waah?" Miles said uncertainly as he pointed towards the ocean.

"That's right Miles! Very good. You're so smart."

Steve was careful to cut his stride in half as Miles walked across the soft ground, his little sandals sinking into the beach with each step. When they finally reached the shoreline, Miles practically jumped back in shock at the sight of the waves lapping at the ground. 

"It's okay buddy," Steve soothed as he gave the boy's little hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's just the ocean. Can you say 'ocean'?"

"Beesh!"

Steve laughed as he crouched down so that he was closer to Miles's eyelevel. "No buddy, not 'beach', ' _ocean_.' Say 'ocean'."

Miles turned his wide eyes towards him with an uncertain look on his face, one he often wore when he attempted to say a new word. "Oh...sheen?"

"Very good! You're so good." Steve kissed his cheek, causing Miles to giggle as he ran over towards him, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck as another slow wave came rolling towards them. Miles squealed as the water lapped at his ankles, but it wasn't a scared cry so Steve didn't bother to bring him back to the umbrella. "See? That's the water. Feel the water with Dada."

He stretched out a hand towards the oncoming waves and Miles reached out his own uncertain fingers just as a slightly larger ripple hit them. The water was high enough to hit the middle of Steve's calves and splash Miles around the stomach and the boy let out another excited yell before pressing himself against Steve again. 

"Let's go a little further out." 

Steve stood, lifting Miles into his arm and walking slowly with him into the ocean. Steve took short steps as he tested out the sand beneath him, mindful not to cross into any deep patches. Miles stared fixated at the water as it rose first to Steve's ankles, then his calves, then knees before climbing to his hips. The sight of his tall father's body slowly disappearing into the depths caused a slight panic to surge through Miles and by the time Steve had gone far enough for the water to swallow his waist and Mile's legs, the boy was beginning to whimper in fear.

"Hey, hey little buddy, it's okay," Steve soothed as he rubbed gentle circles into the boy's back. Little tears began peeking from his eyes as he pressed his head against Steve's neck. "It's okay buddy. Dada's here. I've got you."

"Dada go. Go!" he whimpered against Steve's neck.

"You wanna go back to Uncle Phil?"

"Yes. Please?"

Steve moved a bit quicker as they left the waters behind and climbed back towards their spot higher on the beach. Miles had calmed down by the time they returned to the safety of their towels and umbrella and Phil didn't look the least bit surprised by the sudden return. "Didn't like the ocean?"

"Not ready I guess," Steve shrugged as he eased himself back down to the ground, Miles still resting against him.

Phil nodded as he pressed a hand against Miles's damp cheek. "How about I go get us some ice cream?"

"Ice cream? Phil he hasn't even had his lunch yet."

Phil gave him a look, one that said that Steve needed to lighten up just a little bit and Steve decided that just one bite of ice cream before a meal wouldn't hurt just this once. "Fine, I guess a little ice cream won't be so bad."

"Great. I saw a vendor down the boardwalk. I'll be back in a bit."

Phil left and Steve stayed with Miles. He looked down at his own arms, checking to make sure that they hadn't reddened. Steve hadn't been exposed to much direct sunlight recently and still wasn't certain if the super solider serum effected him in that area, but he wasn't exactly eager to take chances. He still had painful memories of day long trips to Coney Island that ended with him turning strawberry red and sore for days. With that thought in mind, he adjusted the umbrella and shifted closer beneath the shade. His skin still looked fairly healthy, but Steve knew that things could turn bad at the drop of a hat.

He glanced down at Miles, head still pillowed against Steve's shoulders and his eyes drooping with sleep. They were approaching nap time and Steve wondered if he would be awake by the time Phil came back with their ice cream. Steve pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "You okay buddy?" Steve asked gently. Miles responded with a soft little "yes" and Steve rewarded him with another kiss. "I love you Miles, do you know that? Dada loves you."

Miles reached up his hand and pressed it against the spot on Steve's chest where his star usually sat. "Dada."

"Can you say 'I love you, Dada'?"

He traced a little heart against the center of Steve's chest. "Dada... you?"

Steve practically melted as he kissed him again. "Thank you, buddy. You're so sweet."

The two sat quietly in the shade, watching as the crowd gradually began to increase as the beach goers began to walk back and forth in front of them. A few children were chasing a Frisbee around, while another family set up camp a few paces away. Steve spotted a little boy with an Iron Man t-shirt and laughed gently at the sight. If Miles were feeling a bit more alert, he likely would be pointing and staring at the other child.

A middle aged woman approached them from the right. Her hair was a golden brown with a few gray streaks and she wore a flower patterned pink swimsuit, the lower half covered by a beach towel. Her body was soft and small and her face seemed quite gentle, but her wide eyes seemed to fill with worry as she walked with some difficulty towards their little place in the shade. "Oh my, is he lost?" she asked, her eyes landing on Miles.

Steve stiffened in shock at the question. "Excuse me?"

She frowned for a moment, but relaxed a bit when she realized she had likely made a mistake. "Oh, I'm sorry. You're watching him for his mother?"

"Um, no actually," he said with an awkward smile. "I'm his father."

Her eyes widened so suddenly that Steve was momentarily afraid she'd hurt herself. "You're what?"

"His father."

"Oh. Oh!" She laughed, having the good sense to look somewhat embarrassed by her previous words. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize..."

"It's alright," he said politely with a soft smile. A small bubble of annoyance had formed in the pit of his stomach, but Steve fought it off, telling himself that the woman meant no harm and really it was kind of her to be concerned about the safety of an innocent child. "He's just fine. We're just taking a bit of a break from the sun."

She laughed again, waving her delicate hand in the air in a manner that reminded him distantly of his mother. "Oh, you don't have to worry about that with him. They don't burn!"

Steve's ears perked up and his mind momentarily scrambled as he replayed the woman's words in his head. Surely she could not have said what he thought she'd said. "Ex...excuse me?"

"Black people," she corrected, lowering her voice as if she were telling him a well kept secret. "Their skin's different from ours. It's not as sensitive. They don't burn in the sun."

His head suddenly went blank as he stared up at the woman's kind smile. He couldn't remember reading anything like that in the skin cancer article and Phil certainly hadn't said anything. Then again, maybe Phil knew and that's why he had teased Steve about slathering Miles with sun block. He shook his head and frowned, because that just didn't sound right. "Um, okay then," he said with as pleasant of a smile as he could muster. Suddenly Steve wanted nothing more than for this woman to move far away from them. "Thank you ma'am. Have a great day."

She smiled brightly down at him before walking off. 

Phil returned soon after, holding two large waffle cones wrapped in napkins and a small plastic spoon in his hands. "Sorry, there was a line," he explained. Phil sat down on their towels carefully as he waited for Steve to adjust himself and Miles. The baby seemed to perk right up at the sight of the ice cream and was bouncing and grasping before Phil could even hand Steve his cone.

Steve was still frowning when he accepted the vanilla ice cream cone. "Phil?" he asked carefully. "Is it true that black skin is different from white skin?"

For a moment Phil looked as if he were drowning as he sputtered and stared in muted horror at Steve. His eyes darted around the beach before landing back on Steve. "Please tell me that wasn't a real question."

"I didn't think it sounded right," Steve said with a shake of his head. "This strange woman came up to us and said that black skin doesn't get sun burned, but that article didn't say anything about that. Miles's skin isn't different from ours, is it?"

"Miles's skin _is_ different from ours, because he's a _baby_." Phil sighed as he used the spoon to scoop out a small bit of his ice cream and feed it to Miles. The baby offered him a soft "thanks" before happily accepting the treat. "That woman was clearly a bit... ignorant."

Steve considered that for a moment. "Well she did look a bit shocked when I told her I was Miles's dad," he reasoned. "Do you think she was racist?"

"For the record, I didn't say that, I said 'ignorant'," Phil clarified. "But yes, probably a little."

"But I didn't think people were like that anymore."

"Steve, this may be the twenty first century, but there are still going to be people who won't think we fit the shape of the typical American family." He shrugged and gave Miles another scoop of ice cream. "Take you for example."

" _Me_? What about me?"

"We've been together for nearly two years and you still won't hold my hand in public."

"That's different," he blushed.

"It really isn't," Phil explained gently. "You grew up in a different time, you have a different set of ideas and morals and certain aspects of modern life still make you uncomfortable. That lady and thousands of other people like her have that same problem: they live in today's world but they hold on to yesterday's principals. She probably didn't mean anything by what she said, but she still has a hard time disassociating what's acceptable from her time and what's acceptable now."

Steve considered that for a moment, remembering what Jefferson had said about Miles being black and needing to stick to his roots. Steve suddenly realized he wasn't doing a very good job keeping to that, but he didn't really understand just what it was Jefferson meant for him to do. "So is it wrong for me to have a black son?"

"Only if you treated him differently than if he were our white son, which you don't," Phil reasoned. "Besides, Rio Morales was Puerto Rican, so Miles is our _half_ black son."

\---

They stayed at Rockaway for a bit longer, allowing Miles to build more sandcastles and explore the beach a bit more. Steve took him back into the ocean one last time and found that Miles reacted a bit better the second time around. They ate the light lunch Steve had packed the previous night before taking apart their beach umbrella and shaking the sand off of their towels. They rinsed the salt water off their bodies at a nearby shower before packing up the car. 

Miles slept as they drove back into the city and even Steve found his head bobbing a bit. The three of them stopped at a nearby diner so that Steve could grab a full lunch and Phil could have some coffee. When the waitress who seated them offered a choice of a highchair or booster seat for Miles, Phil chose the booster seat just to see how he would fit. His little legs slid perfectly into the holes and his arms were able to reach the table just fine, his back staying straight and tall with the bit of support the wooden block offered him.

"Wow buddy! You fit into a big boy seat," Steve said with a tender pat to the boy's back. The waitress handed each of them a menu before hurrying off to grab a glass of water for each of them. "He really is getting big, isn't he?"

"Just look at his teeth. He has at least twice as many now," Phil noted.

When the waitress came back around, Phil ordered coffee and a slice of blueberry pie, while Steve asked for a patty melt for himself and a small bowl of fruit for Miles. She smiled and took their menus, leaving Miles with a pack of crayons and a paper placemat to color. Another family walked into the diner then, one of the children was about Miles's age and the other a bit older. Both boys had their hair trimmed down to their scalp, the way most boys Miles's age seemed to have.

"Do you think he's ready for a hair cut?" Steve mused as he ran a hand over the boy's thick head of curls. "It's gotten pretty long, hasn't it?"

The gesture drew Phil's gaze and he smiled fondly at the tight black coils sprouting from Miles's head. "I think you'll miss that hair when it's all gone."

"Yeah," Steve chuckled as he continued to play with the boy's hair, "but it's going to happen eventually."

Their orders came, but Miles was too focused on coloring every farm animal on his placemat bright red to bother with his plate of fruit. Eventually Steve had to force feed him, spearing an apple slice with the prongs of his fork and bringing it to Miles's lips until he reluctantly took a bite. They went through three apple wedges that way before Miles finally put his crayons aside in order to pick at the fruits with his own hands.

"Remember we had a conversation about overfeeding him," Phil commented from over the rim of his coffee mug.

"I'm not overfeeding him," Steve countered as he took a few of his french fries and put them in a small napkin to cool off for Miles. He didn't like giving Miles diner food, but today seemed to be a day filled with treats and one salty snack wouldn't hurt. "Besides it's just fruit."

"And fries apparently."

"And ice cream," he countered, but let the matter slide at the sight of Phil's frown. He knew that Phil was worried that Steve was going to make Miles fat, but Steve was more concerned about Miles growing up too skinny. Steve had been a sickly child with a tendency to throw up more food than he could stomach who then grew into a scrawny young adult that was forced to live through a depression. In his mind the most important thing was that Miles had access to food, _good_ food, and plenty of it so that he wouldn't know a moment of hunger.

Phil didn't see things that way. He feared that Miles would grow up and become a bit too comfortable with snacking in between meals with large portions and those healthy options that they gave him would eventually shift into greasy junk food cravings when he became a teenager. Steve could see the logic behind that, but he felt that Miles would be smart enough to learn the importance of a balanced diet filled with quality food and carry that into his older years.

"Speaking of conversations we've already had," Steve smirked as he tapped thoughtfully against his water glass, "when are we going to talk about that other thing?"

Phil had just shoveled a fork full of pie into his mouth and raised an uncertain brow at Steve. "The other thing?"

Steve smiled and reached across the table, his heart already hammering in his chest despite his efforts to remain calm as he grasped Phil's hand in his own. His face was flushing, he knew it was, but he tried his best to fight against it as he kept their locked hands on top of the table. "I know we're going to get married eventually, but, well, who’s going to ask?"

"Ask?" Phil chuckled.

He nodded. "I mean, do I give you my ring size or should I be the one visiting jewelry stores?"

Phil laughed as he placed his fork down in order to put his other hand on top of Steve's. "Well, let's think about this: you were the one to ask me out on our first date, you did suggest that we move in together, and _you_ were the one to bring home a baby. So, I guess it's my turn to do something a bit proactive in our relationship." His smile turned tender as he looked towards their linked hands and slowly shifted them until they were safely tucked beneath the table. "And I was just teasing earlier, Steve. You don't have to force yourself to do something you're uncomfortable with just to prove a point."

"I'm not proving a point," he countered and then reconsidered. "Well, maybe I am, but let's face it; it's time I got over this! We have a baby, we're getting married, I think it's time I learn to do things like hold your hand and tell you I love you in public without feeling uncomfortable."

"I'm glad to hear that," Phil told him sincerely before detangling their fingers beneath the privacy of their table, "but I don't want you to push yourself. It takes time, I won't be offended. Maybe we can work on something a bit less intimidating, like doing those things in front of our friends."

He was ashamed to say that he felt his face turn redder at the idea of Stark and the others teasing him over little things like kissing Phil's cheek or placing a tender hand at his side, but he supposed it was better to be teased by friends than be judged by strangers on the street. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah let's do that."


End file.
